Dunsinane
by Timesprite
Summary: Cable has disappeared and news surfaces that prompts Cannonball to try and track him down, only to find the deeper he goes, the uglier things get.
1. Act I

Disclaimer: All characters contained here-in, with the possible exception of a few minor extras, are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc. I'm not making any sort of gain off this... in fact, I think I *lost* some sanity. Don't sue, about all I could give you is debt. 

Author's Notes: This story closely follow the events of Cable #97-105, and X-Force #125, but knowledge of those issues is *not* needed to understand the story. Everything is explained in context. Some X-Continuity has been taking into account as well (mostly the events of New X-Men Annual '01), but what follows is a blend of continuity and what could have been. Hopefully, it's an intriguing one. Thanks to Alison, Lyssie, and A.j. for the betas, and everyone who cheered this story on through the year it took to complete. Rated PG-13, on account of Domino swearing like a sailor.

**Dunisnane  
Act I**  
by Timesprite

Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care   
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspiracies are.   
Macbeth shall never vanquished be until   
Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill   
Shall come against him.   
-Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1

  
  


"He still thinks we're dead?"

"Probably not," Domino admitted, downing her drink. Sam, she noted, was still carefully nursing his beer. "If he's got half a brain, he'll realize _you_ aren't, anyway. The others... maybe he doesn't care. He probably believes that _I_ think _he's_ dead."

"Well, the fact that he's still breathin' could give him that notion, Ah s'pose."

Dom laughed despite herself. "Don't get me wrong, Sam. I still want to go kick Wisdom's sorry ass for what he did to you--did to _all_ of us--but I'd rather wait and see what he's up to first." She ordered another drink, eyes scanning the crowd. She'd had a hell of a time shaking the goons that had been tracking her all the way from Hong Kong, but she didn't see them now. Only patrons who were doing a deplorable job of not staring at the strangers in their midst. The fact that neither of them blended in very well in Kenya probably had something to do with it. "You got the others situated?"

"Yeah, they're lyin' low. With those folks back in San Fran callin' themselves X-Force," the young Kentuckian's face contorted for a moment, and Domino was sure he was thinking things he was far too polite to ever say, "Ah don't think they'll have any problems."

Domino nodded, sipping her newly arrived drink. "Good. They could use the anonymity for awhile." She leaned back in her chair and eyed her companion. "What are you going to do now?"

Sam frowned again, taking a long pull on his beer before saying anything. "Don't suppose you've talked ta Cable lately."

She stiffened slightly, annoyance abated only because Sam was asking, and he wouldn't trample needlessly on her emotions unless he had a damned good reason. "No," she replied after a moment. "I think it's pretty much over."

"Guess you haven't been readin' the papers either, in that case." He bent down and dug through the canvas bag beside his chair, and tossed her a week old copy of the _Tiempos del Mundo_. "How's your Spanish?"

"Just fine," she murmured, scanning the pages. "What am I looking at?"

"Check out the news from Peru." He watched as her eyes flitted down the page.

She reached for her glass and downed the rest of her drink. "Shit." She ran a hand back through her tangled hair. "You think he was involved?"

"There's a group o' kids wanderin' around spouting Askani philosophy. Unless Blaquesmith has taken t' tutoring orphans..."

Domino grimaced. "Well, I agree that's a bit odd, but..."

"He checked into a hotel in Lima a few days before the revolt kicked into high gear, and left the day the government regained control."

She sighed. "He _was_ trying to help the government..."

"An' since when has single-handedly quelling coups in third-world countries been his style? A lotta people died, Dom."

"Well," she smirked, "if it was for a profit..." She trailed off. "He's a big boy Sam..."

He picked up the paper and shook it at her. "This ain't right. Ah'm gonna see what Ah can find out, whether Ah got yoah help or not, but I'd appreciate it."

She looked at him for a long moment, seeing the determined set to his expression. "Yeah, okay. You've got yourself a cohort."

----

Domino adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on her head, kneeling in the grass while a ring of earnest-faced children surrounded her, and tugged at the neckline of her tank top, mentally cursing the heat and the fact that she'd decided to wear a skirt despite the fact that she'd had to trudge over some formidable terrain to get to the camp. Still, she'd had her reasons. She'd guessed--correctly, it seemed--that they'd be much more willing to talk to her if she looked harmless than if she'd tromped into their 'territory' in her regular merc gear. As it was, they'd still confronted her with knives and guns, not backing down until she'd convinced them that she only wanted to talk. A part of her had wrenched at seeing children so young behaving so militantly.

"Can you tell me again what happened?" Domino asked in exacting Spanish, trying to get a straight story out of the group of grubby looking children before her. She and Sam had flown into Lima the previous day, and while Sam scoured the city to find out what he could, she was stuck trying to deal with this herd of small children who--quite unnervingly--kept hitting her with warped versions of Askani philosophy, all the while trying to out-talk one another.

"He came into the camp--I helped capture him," one boy replied. From what she'd been able to tell, he'd had the most contact with Cable. The rest of the children seemed to be merely following his lead.

"But he escaped," she replied.

"The police raided the camp," the boy corrected. "He took me away."

"To the hospital, right? You don't know what he was doing there?"

The boy shook his head. "He took me to see Momma, too."

"And then he left. He didn't say where he was going?"

He shook his head again. "Is he coming back?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." She straightened up, ruffling the boy's hair briefly. "Thanks for the help, kid."

"You'll tell him, won't you? That we're doing what he taught me?"

Dom gave him a lopsided smile. "If I find him, I sure will."

----

"Did you have any luck?"

They were back at the hotel, the air conditioning cranked in the small room. Dom gave the young man a wry smile. "They pulled guns on me."

"Well, that doesn't sound encouragin'."

She shook her head. "Actually, I did get them to talk, once I convinced them I wasn't the Police or associated with the Shining Path..." She sighed. "It's hardly surprising, really. Violence is all those kids have ever known. They're just trying to survive."

"They have anything useful to say?" Sam asked, deftly switching the focus of the conversation. Kids were a touchy subject with Dom and he knew it--given even the little he knew about her history, which wasn't surprising.

"Not really. There was one kid Nate seemed to have taken a shine to--he's the son of that terrorist you went to see, I think--anyway, apparently Nate dragged him along to one of the hospitals, I don't know why though. All the kid could tell me was that Nate used some kind of equipment on himself."

Sam gave her a quizzical look. "Somethin' with the virus?"

"Not likely. There's nothing on the planet capable of doing much of anything to the T-O. Certainly not anything that'd be in a Peruvian hospital." She rubbed at her temple, trying to massage away a headache. "How'd your interview go?"

"Not well. She was cooperative, but there wasn't much she could tell me. She didn't know who he was, really. Said he'd never really been clear on why he was doing what he did."

"Classic Cable there," Dom replied wryly.

"She's a teleporter. He blew out her eardrum or somethin' to keep her from accessin' her powers. Apparently, he was using his telepathy to undermine the Path's influence. She wasn't really very clear on that. One thing seems certain, though. He really did stop the whole coup on his own."

"He was never an underachiever, that's for sure." Domino pulled at the cotton of her tank top, and flopped back limply on the hotel bed. "Remind me why I agreed to this?"

"It's cause Ah'm adorable," Sam quipped, and Domino noticed he was looking a little sun burnt. Good. She wasn't the only one suffering, then. "You couldn't resist."

She snorted. "Uhhuh... that would only work if I _didn't_ know the deviousness that lies under all that Southern charm, Sam."

"Ah think Ah'm offended."

She laughed outright this time, turning on her side to look at him. "I don't care what he's up to, you know."

"Sure you don't. You've got better things ta do, right?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah, like ruling Asia. Why the hell did I let Xavier talk me into that gig? Better yet, why did I let him pair me up with a woman who managed to get herself killed in the first two weeks?"

Sam winced slightly at the casual mention of Gloria's death. Granted, he'd been with the X-Men while Risque had been toying with Jimmy, but it still stung a bit. Domino's flippant attitude was a distressing reminder of how much she'd changed in the past few years. It was painful to see. "Ah think it was all those zeros on the check," he replied, burying the thought.

"I think you're right." She sat up, abruptly peeling the sweaty shirt off and tossing it in a corner, only noticing Sam's embarrassment belatedly. "Uh, sorry." She quickly pulled on a fresh shirt. "Though, you can't tell me you've never seen a topless woman before."

"No--just... it's _you_, an' no offence, but that's kinda like seein' mah mama naked, y'know?"

"I think you've just managed to make me feel old."

"You ain't," he pointed out. "Er, not that ya were before, o' course."

"Keep squirming. It's entertaining," she quipped.

He shook his head in amusement before looking back at her, expression grown serious. "Ah've got a question Ah've been meaning ta ask ya..." he trailed off. Getting info from Dom was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone, but occasionally she could be surprisingly forthcoming. She arched an eyebrow, obviously waiting for him to continue. "When ya found us, after Wisdom 'died,'" there was a world of contempt in that one word, "you said you'd gone freelance 'cause ya needed the money. Why?"

Something darkened in her face, her posture changing in such a way that he knew he wasn't going to get an answer. Not now, probably not ever. "That's nothing you need to worry about, Samuel," she said quietly.

----

_...I can't believe he ate the last donut!..._

_...Oooh. Chocolate..._

_...Why is it always now that it rains?..._

_...That stupid idiot! My lane!..._

_...Not our fault...he said it wasn't our fault..._

Nathan Summers squeezed his eyes shut, as if the physical movement could somehow force away the thoughts streaming through his mind in a jumbled torrent. His shields were all but blown and he knew it--couldn't cope with the sudden ability to hear thoughts half a world away, just like he couldn't control the telekinetic flares that kept forcing him from one hotel to another. He sucked in a breath, trying to concentrate, focus, put all those voices to rest. A distant part of his mind wondered how long it'd been since he'd last slept. Days, probably. He was too terrified to sleep now, afraid of the power that swirled inside him, power enough to snuff out suns like candle flames. All those minds, all those thoughts, strong and emotional. Joy, worry, anger, regret. Sorrow. He clenched his hands into fists, willing it all down, wresting control of his mind from the grip of that maelstrom. He could do this. He had to. He'd go insane otherwise.

----

"I can't believe he's using a credit card with his real name on it," Domino grumbled, squinting at the laptop screen as she tried to get a trace on the card in question. There were perks to being in Xavier's employ, not the least of which was the resources she had open to her. She might have been able to track him on her own, but this was so much easier.

"Hiding in plain sight?" Sam asked, leaning to look over her shoulder.

She shook her head. "He's done it before... but even so, he'd never leave such an obvious trail." Her fingers flew over the keyboard, muttering under her breath. "This is not like you, Nathan. What the hell is going on?" 

Sam stood and sighed. "Ah told you there was somethin' not right going on here."

"I don't suppose you've got any idea what he was up to before this?"

"Just some disturbin' reports about him causing a couple of high profile murders back in the States. But you heard 'bout that."

"Yeah." She sighed. She'd never admit how utterly relieved she'd been to find out it hadn't been him after all. Almost as glad as she'd been to see Scott Summers alive and well. For awhile, she'd been really worried for Nathan--not that she'd had much of a chance to act on it. Getting possessed, killed, possessed again, double crossed, and led to believe her team was dead had left her dance card a bit full. The X-Men had all been disturbingly silent over the whole thing. A silence that seemed all the more ominous now, given what she knew.  
She worked for a few more minutes in silence, trying not to dwell of the situation too much. There could be a perfectly rational explanation for all this--it wasn't as if they'd uncovered anything truly disturbing, after all. Just Nathan acting slightly more reckless than she was used to. But there could be a reason for that, too. Given his periodic bouts of secrecy, strange actions on his part were not altogether unheard of. If not for the fact that Apocalypse was already _dead_, she probably wouldn't have batted an eyelash. She frowned, eyebrows drawing together in concern. Sure, there was a rational explanation--or was she simply too stubborn to believe that anything could be wrong? "I should have stayed in Hong Kong," she muttered under her breath.

"Problem?" Sam's voice jolted her out of her reverie.

She shook her head. "No, I just..."

"Look," he rested a hand gently on her shoulder. "Ah only asked for yoah help because Ah thought--"

"What _did_ you think?" She turned her head, locking her eyes on his. "That we'd find Nate and be one big fucking happy family again?" She gave him a bitter smile. "It isn't going to be as easy as that. We've all changed, Sam."

Anger flashed across his face for a split second. "You don't think Ah know that? Ah know Ah've changed, an' even the blind could tell you have, but Cable's been like a father t' me, an' Ah _don't_ turn mah back on family."

Domino winced inwardly at the hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry," she mumbled in apology, turning back to the computer. "Ahha! Got something."

"You found him?"

"Looks like. He reserved a hotel room in Macedonia two days ago." She fired up the portable printer, then went back to the computer. "Feel ready for a change of climate?"

Sam cracked a smile. "You bet."

----

Silence. Darkness.

The world was locked out, held securely at bay by shields forged of iron will and immense power. Every mind on the planet swirled outside those unbreachable walls, hers to read, to touch with something less than a conscious effort if she so chose. Today, she did not--instead throwing the floodgates open in search of one mind in particular. A mind that should have been easy to pick out from amidst the swirling masses, as familiar as it was.  
It should have been easy.

Instead, as she reached out, she was met with a disruption that made her falter as it tore like a riptide through the sea of minds, leaving eddies and hazardous whirlpools in its wake. Hurricane-like, its eye was hidden from her, unreachable, untraceable. The only clue to its location was the destruction it left in its wake, so brutal that even a novice would have seen it. It tore at the astral plane, leaving tatters and lacerations in its wake that throbbed with a deep, golden light.

----

"Think we found him?"

"Maybe they're just remodeling," Domino replied wryly, staring up at the shattered remains of the hotel across the street. They'd arrived in Skopje earlier that morning, finding the city in a state of minor turmoil. From what they were currently seeing, it wasn't hard to tell why. "Local paper said it was a bomb blast. There's a lot of tension between the different ethnic factions--it could be possible."

"Yeah. And they just happen t' bomb the building Cable was stayin' in."

Domino sighed. "Yeah, I know. Doesn't look good. Especially since there's an office building a few blocks over that looks similar. I can understand taking _that_ out... from what I dug up yesterday it looks like a laboratory was leasing the floor the blast originated from. But a hotel packed with civilians? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe someone _else_ came looking for him?" Sam offered, pulling his coat more securely about his shoulders. Going from summer in Peru to winter here in Macedonia was jarring, to say the least.

Domino pursed her lips. "Possibly. It did come after the attack on the lab. I guess there are rumors of something going up pretty spectacularly further up in the mountains after this happened, but I couldn't actually find any confirmation of that. Not even a cover-up story. Which is... interesting."

"What do you think?"

"I _think_ that _someone_ was obviously up to no good in that laboratory, and Nathan decided to fix it his way. Maybe someone took offence at that and tried to get rid of him." She dug around in the pocket of her coat, and handed him a slip of paper. "I've got something I want you to check out. There's a woman, a technician at the lab, I think. Anyway, they thought she'd been killed in the blast, but she showed up again the day we flew out of Peru. She's staying at the orphanage at that address. Why don't you go talk to her, see if she can tell you what they were up to at that lab. It might give us a clue as to just what the fuck Nate was up to there."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked. He knew a brush-off when he saw one, and he was pretty sure Dom was sending him off on a fairly pointless mission.

"I've got a few military officials to talk to. I've got a sneaking suspicion something deeper was going on here--those mountains would make a nice home for a military installation, don't you think?"

Sam gave her a scrutinizing look. "Maybe Ah should come with ya."

"You're not going to like my methods, Sam."

"Still, it'd be safer."

"And we're still lagging behind Nathan. The sooner we find out what he was doing here, the sooner we can get back to _finding_ him. And to do that, the best way is to split up." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, don't argue with me on this. I appreciate your concern, but in case you haven't noticed, I can take care of myself."

He gave her a long look, sure she knew he was questioning that statement, but he knew better than to argue with her. She may have been a whole lot closer to his age since 'Junior' had done whatever exactly it was that'd seemingly knocked her age back a few years, but she still had seniority, and he still had ingrained responses that firmly told him she was boss. It was just getting harder and harder to take her commands without question--maybe it was that he'd matured, maybe he was just more bitter, but he could no longer see her as the self-confident soldier she'd once represented. Somewhere along the line, he'd got a glimpse beneath the façade she wore with everyone. A fragment of a woman only Cable knew. Maybe. Something told him they were all more damaged than they had been when X-Force had last been together. He didn't want to think about how long ago that had really been. It hurt too much.  
With a sigh, he broke eye contact, glancing at the address and shoving the slip of paper into his pocket. Inwardly, he wondered when he'd become the responsible one. He shouldn't have had to worry about Domino--or Cable for that matter, but he was, and he couldn't help it. "Fine, you win."

Dom nodded, and glanced at her watch. "Be back here in two hours, and we can try to sort all this out."

----

Sam Guthrie brushed snow from his hair and coat as he stepped into the darkened church. Even in the relative dimness, he could make out signs of a recent firefight. He walked to one wall, running his gloved hand over a line of bullet holes. It was probably too much to hope this was all coincidence.

"Can I help you?"

The voice was sharp, the English accented. He turned to see a blonde woman standing in the doorway near the altar, fixing him with a murderous look.

"Ah s'pose that depends. Ah'm lookin' for Viktoria."

"I'm her," the woman replied. "Who are you?"

He walked over to where she stood, extending a hand. She flinched slightly, as if expecting violence. After a moment, he let his hand drop. "Mah name's Sam Guthrie, ma'am. Ah think we might have a mutual friend. His name's Nathan."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before seeming to come to a mental conclusion. "Come with me."

He followed dutifully as Viktoria led him out of the church and down a long hallway. He could hear children's voices, and remembered that this place was an orphanage as well. A small dark haired boy darted from a room down the hall, calling a greeting Sam couldn't understand. Viktoria kneeled to give the child a quick hug, said something in reply, and sent the child off. She straightened, casting a glance over her shoulder. "They killed Father Mikael--double-crossed, and there was no one left to run the orphanage... I no longer had a job." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Someone needed to take over." She led him into a tiny, spartan office, and he took the seat she motioned to. "You know Nathan?"

"Ah do. Look, Viktoria, Ah need to know what happened here. Ah take it he had somethin' to do with the destruction of the lab you used to work at?"

Viktoria pushed at her glasses again and nodded. "They were making a virus. It was supposed to kill the ship--the Ethnic Albanians. He destroyed it."

Sam nodded. "Ah figured it was somethin' like that. But ah take it that wasn't all? The hotel...a bomb?"

She shook her head. "Not a bomb. He did that."

Sam blinked. "Nathan bombed the hotel?"

"No." She pursed her lips, obviously thinking, possibly trying to find the right English to say what she needed to. "There was another man. He shot Nathan. And then..."

"Shot him?" Sam arched an eyebrow.

Viktoria gave him a serious look. "In the head--_killed_ him. And then the building exploded. It was..." She paused. "His tele... kinesis?" 

Sam nodded slowly. "That's the word... but... it's not possible. He couldn't..."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" She accused. "You asked. I am telling you what happened. He said he had a virus..."

"The T-O."

"He removed it. His powers were not right."

"Removed? That's not _possible_."

"You said that already. I am telling you it is."

"Fine, okay," Sam waved a hand in a conciliatory gesture. "Ah'll take your word. He left then?"

She shook her head. "No, there was more. The Albanians, they were cloning... to breed us out." 

"Well, that's an interesting tactic," he replied. "Lemme guess, mountain base?"

She nodded. "He took me there. ...bodyslided?"

"Bodyslide... he did that?"

"Several times." She paused again, studying his reaction. "Not possible?" A hint of amusement crept into her voice.

Sam sighed. "Looks like anything's possible. He took out the base, then."

"Yes. Both sides are back to square one, now. It has not solved the hatred. But, I am trying. He taught me to see past hatred, but there is more to be done. The children..."

Sam gave her a long look. "Askani," he said finally.

"There is a lot of good in the lessons."

"An' a lot of harm, dependin' on who's interpreting it," he replied. It looked as if this trip hadn't been nearly as useless as he'd thought it'd be. But if even half of what she said was true, and not just garbled in translation... he couldn't even begin to comprehend it. He'd have written all of it off as pure delusion, but Viktoria knew far too much. Watching her, he was certain she believed what she said--and she'd obviously spent time with Cable. It just didn't make _sense_. "Viktoria, do you know where he was going next?"

She shook her head. "I am sorry. He didn't say."

He stood, running a hand back through his hair. "All right. Thank you." He extended a hand, and she took it this time. "Good luck with what you're trying to do here."

"It will not be easy work. But, someone must do it."

----

"Everything was lost--both sides. But we have more resources... if we press our advantage--"

"General Popov--"

"What is it? I'm on the phone."

"There's someone to see you sir,"

Domino smirked to herself, listening to the exchange between the general and his aide, smoothing her hands over her skirt. She's stopped to change quickly before coming to the installation--she probably could have bluffed her way in through sheer persistence, but sometimes persuasion of another sort worked just as well. After all a good mercenary used all the tools at their disposal, and she'd never been one to shy away from using all her assets. Even if it did mean the guards at the gate had taken longer than was strictly necessary in patting her down. She ran her hands over the outfit one last time, giving the aide a sly smile as she did so. Sam would most certainly not have approved.

Popov scowled. "I'm busy. Tell them to wait."

"Sir... I don't think..."

"It's all right. I'll take it from here," she said, stepping forward and slipping past the aide, who gave her a slack-jawed look, unable to protest. She strode into the small, bland office, heels clicking smartly on the linoleum tiled floor. "General Popov?"

The general blinked several times, then turned his attention back to the phone in his hand. "I'll call you back." He looked back at her as he set the receiver on its cradle. "Can I help you?"

Domino smiled broadly at him, taking a seat in one of the chairs adjacent to the desk. "I certainly hope so. I'm looking for someone. Someone I have reason to believe you had a recent run in with?"

Popov leaned back in his chair, eyeing her speculatively. "Who are you?"

"Of course. I'm sorry. My name's Luisa Mendoza. I'm here representing an organization that has... interests in the man I'm lead to believe you encountered. I was hoping perhaps you could help me? He's a rather distinctive man...six foot plus, white hair. Sound familiar?"

"I'm afraid I would not be able to tell you anything you do not already know. He appeared out of nowhere, and caused considerable setbacks for me and my men."

"He bombed a laboratory... we would be interested in knowing what might have attracted him to the area." Popov narrowed his eyes at her. No fool then; he wasn't about to tell her more than he felt she should know.

"I am afraid that information is classified."

Domino leaned forward, fixing her eyes intently on the general's, throwing as much intimidation behind the look as possible. "General," she said slowly, voice calm, calculating. "We have evidence of your efforts to 'deal' with the ethnic factions... it would be best if you cooperated with me now. I have other ways of finding out, you understand, and none of them would look good to your superiors, if you follow my meaning. It would be best if you cooperated now."  
It was almost all bluff on her part, but experience had taught her that with governments of this sort, there was _always_ something being covered up. And even if you didn't know the specifics, a little pressure in the right place could yield surprisingly beneficial results. She kept up the intense gaze, aware that he was starting to squirm under the scrutiny.

"It was a virus," he said finally, breaking eye contact, and Domino leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs gracefully. "It was meant to target the Ethnic Albanians only. Lock onto specific DNA sequences... we were in the testing phase."

Domino arched an eyebrow at him. "Biological warfare. Inventive... certainly an efficient way to deal with your... problem."

Popov scowled. "It would have been. The project has been entirely scrapped now. We lost everything, thanks to your... friend. At first, we suspected the Albanians had hired him..."

"But then he destroyed their project as well?"

"Cloning." He made a disgusted face. "To force us out by sheer numbers."

"A far less elegant tactic," she agreed. "I assure you, he was hired by no one. His motivations are his own. Rest assured my colleagues and I are doing everything in our power to track him down." She stood, leaning across the table to offer her hand. "You've been most helpful, General Popov." She shook his hand.

"One thing," the general called as she turned to go. Domino froze mid step, hoping she'd be able to make a quick escape before the general realized how little she'd actually given him in return for the information. "I assume you know his name?"

She glanced back over her shoulder as she continued to the door. "He calls himself Cable." 

----

Faces passing in a crowd, voices, minds, shoving, jostling, ringing loudly in his head. He wove his way through the marketplace, ignoring the shouts of vendors, trying futilely to pull the shreds of his shields back together. It was a tenuous fix at best, full of gaping holes, but it kept him moving, and that was all that mattered. He couldn't stay in one place, not for too long. There was something out there, nothing he could pinpoint, just something he could _feel._ Something that made him feel hunted, cornered.   
The sky above was robin's egg blue. He kept tipping his head back to stare at it, heedless of the throng swirling about him. It seemed to go on forever, arcing from horizon to horizon, interrupted only by the white-hot blaze of the sun. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat on his lids, trying to shake himself loose from the chaos around him. It didn't work--it never did. He felt trapped, trapped by powers that should have set him free, trapped by the force he could feel shadowing him, trapped by another force that seemed to lead him onward, like the call of the Pied Piper--whether towards salvation or doom, he didn't know. All he could do was follow.

----

"Jesus Christ... I think I just about froze something off. Hurry up with the damned key."

Sam didn't glance up from trying to coax the lock to their cheep hotel room into opening. "Bein' half-naked in the middle of winter might have somethin' ta do with that," he shot back, and thumped his fist on the door in frustration. "You try it."

"Y'know, this is precisely the reason I didn't let you come with me..." Dom reached over, jiggled the key in the lock for a moment, then turned it, throwing the bolt back. "There we go."

"Ah'm just sayin,' there had ta be other ways of gettin' the information we wanted without resorting ta dressing like--"

"A two-bit whore?" Dom finished helpfully as she pushed into the room, making a beeline for her luggage. "Maybe. But it _is_ the fastest." She paused, crouching to pull a sweatshirt and jeans from the bag before continuing. "If it makes you feel any better, he didn't touch me. No one did... well, unless you count the over-friendly security, anyway." She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him. "I don't need you to look after me, Sam."

He shrugged. "Ah know. But Ah want to."

"Sam..." She sighed, pursing her lips to blow hair out of her eyes as she let the rejoinder die unvoiced. She crossed the small space to the bathroom, clothes in hand. "So," she commented, voice muffled by the door between them. "What did our lab tech have to say?"

"Nothin' you're gonna like. Or believe, for that matter." Sam sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his arms, mulling over the myriad of ways he could explain what he'd learned.

"Oh?" The door opened, and Dom gave him a curious look. "Nutcase?"

"I wish," he sighed.

Dom frowned slightly, seeing the expression on his face. "Okay, so what's up? Don't keep me in the dark here." She seated herself cross-legged on the bed behind him. "Sam?"

He turned, distressed look still stamped on his face. "This woman... Ah'd be tempted ta write her off as nuts if she didn't know what she knows."

Domino blinked at him, suddenly concerned. "What do you mean?"

"She knew about the virus, for one thing."

"Well, he could have told her about it," Dom replied, "Unusual for Nate, but not impossible." She knew her former partner had silently struggled over issues regarding the virus--as adjusted to it as he seemed on the outside, somewhere deep down, Nathan Summers had always been self-conscious because of it. Still, it didn't rule out the possibility entirely. 

"Ah know. That's the problem, actually."

"What?"

"She said he'd... removed it somehow."

"Wait. The _virus_? But that's not _possible_, is it? The Askani couldn't even cure it and those witches could _time travel_, for fuck's sake."

"Ah didn't think so, either. But that's what she said, and she backed it up by sayin' the hotel wasn't a bombing. Wasn't planned at all. Some guy shot Cable, an' that's what happened."

"Fuck. Sam, she could be making it all up."

He gave her a solemn look. "You really think so?"

She sighed. "No. Crap. I should be happy about this, right? We should both be fucking ecstatic..."

"Ah know. An' all I can think is that this don't sound good. There's one other thing, too."

"Oh, god. There's more? Wait, let me guess... Stryfe showed up."

Sam chuckled despite himself. "Nah, far as she told me, the only clones were in that base that went up in the mountains." Domino nodded slightly, acknowledging that she'd gotten the story from her own investigation, no doubt. "But she mentioned bodysliding."

Dom arched an eyebrow. "Now you're just pulling my leg. That's been disabled since you over-eager rug rats trashed Nate's space station."

"Hey, Ah was just as surprised as you were, trust me. But how else would she know 'bout that, really?"

"You're right, you're right. Goddamnit. I suppose it was too much to hope that we'd just stumble across him doing crosswords or something equally benign. I've suddenly got a very bad feeling about all of this, Sam."

"Well," he replied, "Ah guess that makes two of us."

----

He'd always been something of a light sleeper, though over the years, he'd certainly learned the trick of grabbing some shuteye whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was a trick that wasn't doing him any good at the moment, however. He let his head fall to the side, eyes peering through the darkness to the bed mere feet from his own. He probably could have slept through the restless thrashing Dom did in her sleep--that he was sort of used to by now. Besides, it was no secret to anyone that she never slept that well. He'd certainly been witness to Nate lecturing her about it often enough. She wasn't, however, and that was the problem. She was laying there, still as the dead, making a sound that reminded him disturbingly of a kicked puppy. Or maybe just a cornered animal. Whichever was closer to the truth, the fact remained that it was leaving him with a knot in his stomach so tight he felt vaguely ill.   
After another long moment of indecision, he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It had been going on long enough to kill any hope that it was merely a fleeting bad dream. She was obviously in the grips of some terror he could only imagine--not that he wanted to dwell on probable subject matter at all. All in all, he would rather stay ignorant of most of Domino's history--the glimpses he'd had were more than enough to convince him that knowing much more would only hurt. With a sigh, he stood, crossed the small space between their beds, and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

An instant later he was staring down the barrel of a Browning HP, suddenly grateful for the knowledge that the weapon probably couldn't do him _permanent_ damage. Not that he was really in the mood to test that theory. "Dom?" He asked quietly, taking in the glazed look on the mercenary's face, convinced now that she wasn't really seeing _him_. "Dom," he repeated, more firmly this time, trying not to flinch as the weapon remained trained on his face. After an agonizingly long moment, she blinked, seeming to come out of whatever daze that'd held her transfixed.

"Sam... I--" Her arm dropped, gun resting in her lap as she stared at him for a moment longer. "Sorry," she said finally, looking away. She felt his weight on the edge of the mattress, wishing he would just go back to bed instead of trying to console her. She flipped the safety back on the weapon and slid it back into place beneath her pillow.

"It's alright," he replied, noticing the way she was avoiding looking at him. Probably guilt at having pulled a weapon on him, he thought tiredly. Not that she'd really done it on purpose, but knowing Dom, that wouldn't be much consolation. "Ah probably shoulda known better. Good thing Ah'm immortal an' all," he joked weakly. She still wouldn't look at him. He ran a hand back through his hair, feeling suddenly very out of his league, and more than a little worried. "Look... you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine." The response was clipped, no nonsense. She wasn't about to give him a reason to fuss over her. She was the adult here, damnit. Sam wasn't supposed to be looking after her. "Look," she continued, adopting a more civil tone, "We've got a plane to catch in the morning. Go back to bed."

He looked away, staring at the peeling wallpaper on the opposite wall instead. "You don't fool me," he said after a pause. 

"I'm not _trying_ to fool you," she growled in frustration. Stupid, stubborn boy. He was too much like Nathan in that respect. "I told you I'm fine."

"An' Ah say you're not."

Domino shoved down the urge to scream from aggravation. "It was just a _nightmare_," she pointed out tersely.

He turned his head, meeting her eyes. "Ah'm not talkin' bout the nightmare."

"Sam, don't make me boot you in the head. You _used_ to know better than to stick your nose where it didn't belong."

"Yeah? That's 'cause Ah knew Cable'd do it for me. Somewhere down the line, he fell down on that job, though."

She wanted to hit him. She really did. Domino clenched her hands in fists, fingernails biting painfully into her palms. The fact that she had a disturbingly maternal attachment to the blond young man in question was about the only thing that was keeping her from belting him. "That was out of line."

"Was it?" He shrugged. "Ah'm just sayin,' at some point, he stopped noticin' when you were hurting, even if it was plain as day to the rest of us. An' then he left."

"Well, he wasn't given much of a choice. I was gone by then anyway."

"From what Ah heard, he shouldn't of let ya go in the first place."

"I didn't give him a choice in the matter."

"Look, Ah'm not gonna claim to know what all went down. Ah was a bit too busy helpin' dig bombs outta Cyclops at the time. But those people hurt you, an' everyone just let you go." He shook his head. "Makes me kinda angry now. Maybe Ah just overestimated how much the others cared... Ah wouldn't have let it happen. Look where it got us."

"Damnit, Samuel, I am not some child that needs supervision. I just needed space."

"Space. So you could perfect this... mask you've managed ta make? Well, maybe ya fooled the others, but Ah'm not buyin' it."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You're trying to fix things you can't even _fathom_, Sam. I made the choice to walk away. It was my decision. What makes you think you'd have _any_ right to interfere with that?"

"The fact that you've got one hell of a poor track record in decidin' what's good for you an' what's not. The fact that Cable felt the need to tell me to look after ya if anything happened to him."

She snorted. "I shouldn't be surprised. That arrogant bastard. As if I'd fall to pieces without him around?"

"Ya really want me ta answer that?"

"No, I'd prefer you keep the amateur attempts at mental health assessment to yourself." 

"Fine." He stood, throwing one last glance over his shoulder her at her. "But Ah meant what Ah said. Ah don't turn mah back on family. That includes you."

----

"This is how they were found by the police--most are catatonic, even the best of them are functioning at the levels of infants." The doctor turned to his red-haired companion. "It was gracious of the United States to arrange for your visit... but I'm not sure there is anything to be done. They are only being held here until we can find other facilities to move them to."

"How many did you say there were?"

"Eighty-three. Nearly seventy-five percent are completely comatose."

She steepled her fingers, pressing them to her lips and closed her eyes, concentrating. Reaching out, her mind should have felt the thoughts of the nearly two dozen people who occupied the ward around them. Instead, she sensed only empty pits, no more aware of their surroundings than the furniture or the walls, living only because their brains were intact, functioning on automatic in the absence of a mind to enact conscious control. And hanging over them all, glowing like a neon signature, was the same familiar presence she'd felt ripping through the astral plane days ago. She'd followed the devastation here, unprepared for what she'd find. "How did it happen?"

"We are not entirely sure. The local government has been having trouble with underground fighting arenas. It used to be cockfighting or dog fights, now, it's people. Mutants. You must understand Brazil has not had the same problems that have plagued your country--we leave the mutants to themselves, and no one is troubled. But in the last year these arenas have become popular--especially among the poor who have no other assets. They send their children to fight, to kill each other." The doctor closed his eyes, crossing himself quickly, an almost unconscious gesture. "There was a disturbance at one of these arenas... people were fleeing in a panic. When the police arrived, there was no one left to question. They tracked down witnesses later--there was a foreign man, an American. They said he tried to disrupt the match... the authorities haven't been able to locate him."

She winced inwardly, knowing that her senses couldn't be wrong, but wishing they were. She simply did not want to accept that the nightmare laid before her could be true. "Was there a description of this man?" She asked casually, as if she had only a passing interest.

"Tall. White hair, older. They think he may have left the country already. It's a shame. It would be nice to see why he felt these people deserved this." He waved a hand at the rows of beds. 

"It would," she agreed quietly, her eyes scanning the sad spectacle that surrounded them.

----

"Ah. This is more like it." Domino slipped her sunglasses down her nose, looking at the scenery around them. "My motto: when the going gets tough, the tough go to Rio."

"Well, it looks like Cable decided to take yoah advice."

Dom made a face. "This is _my_ crash spot. He got the Swiss Alps. Never knew why he seemed so fond of that place... too much damned snow for my tastes."

"Speaking of, shouldn't we be _looking_ for him instead of sight seeing?"

"We _are_ looking. He got himself kicked out of the hotel, and that was our only real lead, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we're here." She strode ahead down the busy street, lined on either side with vendors. Shaking his head, Sam picked up the pace to catch up with her. 

"You really think we're just going to find him hanging around here."

Domino shrugged. "Maybe. He hasn't used that credit card since booking that hotel room. Either he's still in the area, or he realized the trail he was leaving. Either way, we're going to have to rely on other means of tracking him." She paused as they passed a newsstand. "Hold on..." She backtracked, picking up one of the local papers with a frown. 

"What--"

She held up a hand to silence him, paying the man at the booth for the paper and scanning it again. Sam walked back to her, looking over her shoulder. "What's up?"

She held up the paper, which he blinked blankly at. "Uh, Ah don't know any Portuguese."

"Didn't Roberto teach you _anything_?"

"You mean 'sides swear words?"

The corner of her mouth twitched up slightly before her serious expression returned. "Well, the short of it, we've found our clue. Unfortunately," her gaze returned to the paper briefly, "it's not a pretty one. C'mon. I think I need a drink."

----

"You can't believe he'd do somethin' like that on purpose."

Domino downed her drink, staring pensively into the empty glass. Unfortunately, there probably wasn't enough alcohol in the small bar to get her well and truly drunk. There were days she really hated her high tolerance. "I don't know, Sam. I wish I could say I didn't. But a part of me also remembers him shooting a good friend in the back, leaving us _all_ for dead. And I tell myself, he's changed. He's not like that anymore. But after seeing what we have? I don't know. I really don't." She motioned for another drink and sighed. "I have to wonder what we're doing here, Sam."

"It's ta put doubts like that to rest," he replied. "Ta find out the truth."

"And what if it's a truth you don't like, Sam? What then? Are you going to call him on it?"

"If Ah have to."

She shook her head, retrieving her new drink from the bartender. "You think you know him so well, Sam. But you don't. I've seen sides of Nate that would make you doubt him. He's done things that would make you so angry, and his only explanation--that it had to be done--would haunt you forever. You've seen the good side of him. You've seen the parts of him that haven't died yet, and in that, you're so damned lucky." She took a swallow of the alcohol, closed her eyes as it burned its way down her throat. "I hope that never changes."

Sam watched the woman who'd become something of a surrogate mother to him trying to drown her sorrows in a bottle and sighed. "If you wanna back out of this, it's okay. Ah appreciate yoah help, but you don't have ta keep doin' this if ya don't want to." Inwardly, he was beginning to wonder if it was just the discovery that Cable had apparently mind-wiped dozens of people that was getting to her. His mind recalled a night, years distant now, when he'd finally worked up enough nerve to ask his mentor about the woman he'd brought on the team to be their co-leader. The conversation had been short, to say the least, but he'd walked away from it with a totally different perspective. Now, he couldn't help but wonder how many awful childhood memories the discovery of the fighting arenas here in Rio was dredging up. He watched her set down the glass, fixing him with a look that seemed to say 'I _know_ what you're thinking.'

"No. We're close. I might as well see this through. And hell, you might need me anyway. I just wish I could come up with a plausible explanation for all this." She slumped in her chair, suddenly tired looking. 

Sam watched as her eyes locked on a place just over his shoulder, and at the same time, got the creeping sensation that someone behind him was staring. Turning his head, he managed to catch a glimpse of brilliant red hair as the person slipped out of the shaded bar. "Who--"

"C'mon." Dom polished off the last of her drink, and slammed the glass down on the tabletop as she stood. He climbed to his feet and together they pushed their way out of the building. "See where she went?"

"Was that--"

"I think so. Which means, we're probably supposed to follow her," Dom replied.

"There." He pointed to a small cluster of trees huddled together near the edge of the beach. 

Dom followed behind him, silent for a long moment, until the distant figure moved out of sight again. "Damnit, why doesn't Jean just--"

Sam stopped dead in his tracks. They were only yards from the trees now, and their 'visitor' had reappeared, watching them with amusement. "That's... not Jean."

Domino blinked. "No shit," she hissed in reply. Aloud she said, "Aren't you supposed to be dead or something?"

"Please, you two should know by now how absolutely impossible it is to kill anyone in my family."

Sam finally managed to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to manage a stuttered response. "_Rachel_?"

"Hello, Sam."


	2. Act II

**Dunsinane  
Act II  
** by Timesprite

"You're sure about all this?"

"To a telepath, it's like a road flare, Sam. I'm just not sure why no one else has come looking for him. That has me worried." Rachel leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair. Grown long, Sam noticed, it made her look even more like Jean. "I have to admit, I'm really kind of baffled. He seemed _fine_ the last time I saw him."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, it ain't making a whole lot of sense ta us, either. About all we've got to go on is the word of a lab tech in Macedonia who claims he got _rid_ of the virus."

Rachel gave him a confused look. "What?"

He shrugged. "It's what she told me."

Rachel seemed to ponder this for a long moment. "Well, in a way, it makes sense."

"How?" After remaining silent through most of their exchange since returning to the hotel, Domino spoke up, though she didn't turn away from the window, beyond which lay the dark expanse of the Atlantic.

"I wasn't able to figure out _how_ he could be doing what he's been doing to the astral plane. He shouldn't have the power to do something like that."

"But if the virus isn't there ta keep in check..." Sam interjected.

"He could. Easily. It would also explain why it's causing so much destruction. He's not used to having to deal with abilities of this magnitude."

"Well, if it's so damned obvious, why haven't you found him yet?" Dom cut in.

Rachel cast an uneasy glance at Sam, who met it with a concerned look of his own, and replied, "That's what I was trying to explain. The astral plane is in ruins--imagine the way a tornado rips through a town--I can see the damage Nathan's done, but I can't see _him._ All I can do is follow... although I think I have an idea of where he's headed."

Domino turned her back to the window, folding her arms across her chest. "Where's he going?"

"Egypt. The desert."

Domino closed her eyes, a pained look flashing across her face. "Akkaba."

"It makes sense," Sam said quietly. "So much of his mission centered around that place. Apocalypse's fortress ain't far away."

"_Why_ would he go back there? Apocalypse is dead, goddamnit. There's no _reason_."

"But if Ray's right, an' he's confused..."

"Fine," Dom replied sharply. "We'll go. Make the arrangements. I'm going to bed."

The remaining two watched in silence as she left the room, heading for the adjoining bedroom. Once she was out of sight, Rachel spoke up. "Is she alright? I know I only met her the one time but she didn't seem quite so..."

"Hostile? She wasn't, not then. Things kinda went downhill since you've been gone."

She shook her head. "Everyone seemed so happy."

"Things change. She an' Cable haven't really been on speakin' terms the last few years."

"Then why is she bothering now?"

"Ah don't think she knows how ta let him go."

----

"Dom?" He stood at the door, waiting for a reply. Rachel had gone back to her own room, leaving him alone with his former team co-leader. No reply, so he knocked again, waiting patiently. It was only quarter past eleven--far too early for her to actually be asleep. At least by Dom's standards.

"Damnit, Guthrie, didn't your mom ever teach you to take a hint?" 

The door opened a crack, and a pair of intense purple eyes glared out at him. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of cigarette smoke greeted him. "The room's non-smokin,'" he pointed out, ignoring the barb. She wouldn't have opened the door if she really didn't want to talk to him.

She pulled the door open the rest of the way, gesturing vaguely with the cigarette. "I opened the window."

He followed her in, sitting on the edge of the bed while she continued to the window, staring out at the ocean beyond. "So what was with the attitude?"

Dom shrugged, not offering any explanation. Instead, she reached out, grabbing a bottle of amber-colored liquid from the nightstand. Apparently, one vice wasn't going to be enough for her tonight. Must have been in her luggage someplace--he was sure she hadn't had the opportunity to hit a liquor store since they'd been in the country. "Fine, you wanna know what Ah think?"

"Probably not, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway." She took a long swallow and set the bottle back down. "So fire away, hayseed."

Sam narrowed his eyes slightly, but continued. "Ah think you're actin' like this 'cause you're scared ta death Ray might be right--that Cable's outta control an' that we're gonna have ta do somethin' 'bout that."

"What makes you think I _care_, Sam? _I_ left _him_, remember?"

His gaze shifted to the cigarette in her hand, then to the bottle before settling on her face again. "Right. You don't care."

She snorted. "Why _should_ I? Do you know what he said to me the last time we talked--I mean really talked, no alien possession, no end-of-the-world bullshit? He told me he needed space... told me he'd found something finally worth fighting for... wanted to know if _I_ could say the same." She made a face and took another swig from the bottle. "Of all the fucking nerve... y'know, I dunno if you knew this.... but I never joined X-Force with the intention of helping train you rugrats. Couldn't've cared less at the time. I came because he _asked_ me too. After a year of being trussed up as his son's fucking prisoner, I stepped into the life Vanessa started because he damned well _asked_ me to. And that bastard had the balls to ask me if I had anything worth fighting for. My reason was staring me in the face, telling me I didn't matter half as much to him as he did to me. Well, fuck that, y'know? I spent nearly twenty years dealing with Nathan's bullshit. I don't care anymore. I'm too goddamned tired to care."

"Maybe he was havin' a bad day."

Domino blinked, then burst out laughing. "Good god, Samuel. Ever the optimist, aren't you?" She shook her head sadly. "I dunno. I get the feeling he just ...moved on at some point. Maybe I fucked up. Maybe I shouldn't have walked away the last time. Maybe he just got sick of offering the help I wouldn't take." She ground out the cigarette on the sill and flicked the butt out the window. "But you know what? All I really wanted was for him to ask me to stay. And he didn't."

"So now you've got to try like hell to pretend you don't care what's going on here? You've gotta be heartless right back?"

"What do you want me to _do_? Walk up, shake hands, exchange pleasantries? 'How ya doing, Dom?' 'Oh, I've been just peachy since you ripped my heart out and handed it to me on a plate. You?'"

Sam shook his head. "Ah didn't say ya had ta act like nothin' was wrong. But pretending like ya don't care 'bout what's goin' on here isn't helping anyone. If ya want out, just say so. Rachel will help finish this." She pushed away from the window, grabbing the bottle and crossing to the bed. She lay down on the side opposite him, back towards him, carefully cradling the alcohol. "I have a headache, Sam. We can argue about this later."

Recognizing the dismissal in her tone, he stood, knowing full well that they wouldn't be discussing this again. She wasn't going to leave, but she wasn't about to admit to any vulnerability, didn't even care that she was being openly hypocritical about the whole issue. And somewhere deep inside, part of him was starting to blame Cable for the mess he was stuck trying to clean up.

----

He'd been walking for miles, wasn't sure when he'd left the city behind. It didn't matter anyway--the city's name was lost to him now, sucked down into the pit of his memory, hidden and irretrievable. Through his mind swirled a constant babble of voices, none of them singular or distinct, just there, overlapping one another in a maddening cacophony that seemed to be building ever so slowly toward crescendo. Inside him, he felt a force building like an untamed animal, waiting to be unleashed. Instinct had driven him into the waiting arms of the desert, and a vague feeling of familiarity guided his steps now. 

He wet cracked lips, felt dryness in his throat and the sting of windblown sand in his eyes, knowing that somewhere amongst the myriad dunes lay either salvation or oblivion. He closed his eyes, stretched his arms out wide, as if he could somehow call to him whatever beast was laying in wait for him. Something lured him, something chased him. He was trapped in a race that had no beginning and no clear end, though he knew the finish line was approaching. Soon... 

He was a madman stumbling delirious in the desert, no name he could remember, no past, no future, the victim of circumstances and of powers that seemed ready to devour him from within. It wasn't chance that he'd found himself here, so far from the world of civilized men. So far from the places where he could do harm--though part of him wondered if the planet itself were truly a match for the awesome might that coiled within him. He stumbled forward, fell, sprawled into a shadow cast incongruously across the scalding sands. Pushing up onto his knees, his head craned back, eyes taking in the towering, horrible monolith that stood broodingly over him.

Somehow, he knew he'd reached the end. Scrabbling to his feet in the shifting dune, he began walking towards its base. Something inside him stirred. Something that almost felt like a welcome home. 

----

There was a quick knock on the hotel door--no doubt Rachel, ready to catch their flight to Cairo. He opened it and let her in, taking her suitcase and setting it aside.

"Sam?" Rachel's eyes scanned the room. It was only half-packed. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "Been pounding at the bedroom door on an' off for an hour now, but she hasn't made a peep." He glanced at his watch. "An' we gotta be outta here in an hour."

Rachel sighed, running a hand back through her hair. "Let me try." She walked back to the bedroom, and knocked twice on the door. "Domino? It's Rachel." No reply. She sighed. "Look, I know you're awake. We need to get moving or we're going to miss the plane, and I can't be sure how long Nathan's going to stay in one place. We really need to get moving." Still no reply. She glanced back at Sam. "She's awake, and fine, as far as I can tell." She looked back at the door again. "Fine. Enough games." After a moment's concentration, the lock opened with an audible 'pop' and Rachel opened the door. "Domino."

The other woman was lying with her back toward the door. Part of her back was exposed, mottled with heavy scarring that disappeared from sight under the bed sheet. Conscious of the hound markings she kept hidden, Rachel tore her eyes away. "I know you're awake."

The movement was so fast she didn't actually see it. Instead she felt the intent, and managed to freeze the bottle that'd been thrown at her in mid-air with her telekinesis. "That wasn't very nice." She deposited the projectile on the nightstand.

"I'm not feeling particularly nice." Domino had sat up, leaning against the headboard with the sheet wrapped around her body, glaring balefully. 

Rachel rested a hand on her hip. "Well, whether you're feeling accommodating or not, we have a plane to catch. If you've decided you don't _want_ to help track down my wayward brother, that's fine, but we're not going to sit around waiting for you to make up your mind."

"You don't... forget it." She shook her head, then turned to look out the window. 

Rachel took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Understand? You're right. I don't understand _any_ of this. I feel like I've walked into a movie halfway through, Domino. I came back to this time only to discover that Scott had sacrificed himself to keep Apocalypse from taking over some alternate version of Nathan, to find that half the X-Men no longer trust Charles, to find Nathan embroiled in a war with someone who wanted him dead simply because he _existed_. The teams I remember have all been disbanded, Genosha's been _destroyed..._ You're absolutely right. And now Scott's back, but Nathan's vanished, and something's happened to him that I can't even start to guess at.   
"I don't know what happened between you and my brother. But I also know he cared... we never had a lot of time to talk, but it was pretty apparent. And I can't believe that you don't want to know what's happening here as much as Sam and I do. You really don't care?"

Dom sighed. "Maybe that's just it. I care too damned much." She ran a hand back through her hair. "Gimme half an hour, alright?"

"Sure." She got up and departed the room, closing the door behind her.

"So?" Sam asked when she emerged.

"She threw the whisky bottle at me."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. Give her half an hour."

Sam blinked. "What did you say to her?"

Rachel shrugged. "Not a whole lot. I don't think she really wanted a fight."

He arched an eyebrow. "Coulda fooled me." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Hey... you didn't--"

"Sam..."

"Hey, wait a minute," he hissed. "If she doesn't want to do this..."

Rachel sighed. "If she didn't want to do this, she wouldn't be cooperating anyway. I just... nudged her in the right direction." 

He crossed his arms. "Don't do that again. She's had enough people messin' with her head as is."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well, I apologize, in that case."

Sam frowned, considered pursuing the issue, then finally gave up, focusing his attention instead on straightening up the room. It wasn't necessary--that was what housekeeping was for, especially in hotels as pricey as this one--but it was a habit, and it kept him from thinking about how little he liked anything that was going on here anymore.  
Finally, with nothing left to pick up, and Rachel staring vacantly out the window, no doubt looking for Cable again--he was sure he'd never get used to the sense of _absence_ he felt when telepaths did that sort of thing--he headed for Dom's room.  
He knocked softly, expecting a sharp reply, caught off guard when the door swung open instead. Dom stood on the other side, wearing nothing but a hotel towel, hair still dripping water down her arms. 

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Problem?"

He shook his head, leaning in the doorway while she moved about the room, tossing items into her luggage. "No." He paused. "You okay?"

She glanced up, shoving wet hair out of her face. "There a reason why shouldn't I be?"

"Dunno... maybe the fact that ya went ta bed with a bottle last night, an' ignored me for an hour this morning?" 

She shrugged, walking back to him. "Maybe you're right." She leaned a hand on the doorframe. "Maybe I don't want to think about all this too hard. I can still do the job." Her eyes pinned him in the doorway. It was a gaze he couldn't look away from. Maybe he just wasn't used to women who could look him in the eye... he'd always thought of her as shorter than she was--probably because seeing her next to Cable skewed his perceptions--he was now acutely aware of how little height difference there really was between them. He did, however, probably have at least thirty pounds on her. She'd always been thin, but it was difficult not to notice that she was starting to look downright skinny. He'd have to lecture her about that later, he thought.

"Sam, you're staring." He blinked, looked away quickly, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Domino chuckled. "It's okay." She backed away a few paces, frowning and rubbing absently at her right shoulder, marred by tendril-like scars that wrapped around from behind. 

"That still buggin' you?"

She scowled. "Sometimes. Romany's hacks were more concerned about getting Junior off intact than they were about how many pieces they left me in. Still ten times better than having the obnoxious thing hitching a ride." She walked over to her suitcase and started selecting articles of clothing. "How much time we got?"

"Forty-five minutes."

"'Kay," she nodded, looking up. After a pause, she added. "I'm gonna get dressed now... if you don't mind."

"Oh, right." He sighed inwardly. The day was not shaping up to be the best on record. He straightened up and closed the door behind him, wandering back out into the main sitting area. Rachel had returned from wherever she'd gone, and was picking at the newspaper on the table. "Any luck?"

She smiled wryly. "No. The damage is getting worse, though. I can't imagine why no one else seems interested. I mean, even a novice should be picking it up." She shook her head. "It's frustrating. But I think we should still stick to our plan."

He nodded, eyes drifting to the view out the window for a moment. "Do you think dying changes a person?" 

"Only in this company could someone ask that question in all seriousness. And shouldn't you be asking yourself that question? _You_ died, _I_ just got lost in the time stream for a bit."

He scratched his head. "Maybe. Ah don't really remember dyin' though. Just wakin' up confused as hell. An' Ah mean, Ah was _meant_ to come back. But when ya ain't..."

Rachel gave him a bemused look. "What _is_ this about?"

"Dom. She... died. Kinda. Ah'm still a bit sketchy on details, but this guy was hired ta kill her, an' he _did_. But somewhere along the way, she picked up this alien... thing that brought her back ta life, fixed her up good as new... better, actually."

Rachel shook her head. "I thought she looked ...different. But my memory's about four years out of date. Is that what those scars are from? I saw them earlier when I went to talk to her..."

"Yeah. Actually, that's from someone takin' the thing offa her. It was tryin' to take over."

"Ahhh. Hence the earlier admonishment." She nodded. "I don't know, Sam. I suppose it'd be traumatic. I don't really know her."

"This ain't her. It's... I dunno." He frowned. "Sometimes I get the feelin' part of her just didn't come back."

----

Even with the delay, they arrived at the airport long before their flight was due to leave. Some sort of engine trouble had delayed the previous flight, and now they were left with a few hours to kill. 

"Just our luck," Sam grumbled. "Y'know, Ah never get delayed on the fights that don't matter, just the important ones."

"Murphy's law in action," Rachel agreed, dropping into one of the well-worn concourse seats. 

Dom dropped her carry-on on the seat next to her. "Well, I dunno about you kids, but I'm going to find coffee. And aspirin. Definitely aspirin."

Rachel smirked. "You're as bad as my brother."

"No one is as bad as Nathan when it comes to coffee," Domino retorted. "_I'm_ just a bit hung over at the moment, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Hey, wait up." Sam stood, grabbing up his bag. "Plane isn't gonna be leavin' for a few anyway, no use sittin' round here."

"Fine..." Dom shook her head and grabbed up her bag again. "Why does this suddenly feel like some sort of demented fieldtrip?"

"Well, look at it this way. At least you're not watching a pack of unruly children," Rachel added.

Dom snorted. "No, we'd need the rest of X-Force here for that."

"Ah think Ah'm insulted."

"Good," she smirked. "C'mon... there's gotta be coffee around here _someplace._"

----

The search for coffee finally ended in the concourse lounge. There'd been a Starbucks closer to their gate, but Domino had stubbornly refused, muttering obscene things about the chain as they'd continued on past it. Sam sat at the bar, nursing a soda, idly wondering how the passengers around him could start drinking so early in the day. Rachel and Dom had taken seats a few feet away--talking it seemed, though he couldn't guess what about.  
He ran a hand back through his hair. It didn't seem possible that they'd only been on Cable's trail for a little over a week. It seemed so much longer, suddenly. Time had a way of stretching funny in the memory, though, he supposed. He'd had the same feeling the night before when Rachel had been filling them in on her sudden return to this era. Thinking over all that had happened in the time since she'd first vanished, it seemed impossible that it had been only four years. The entire world had changed.

"Flight problems?"

Sam jerked his head up, glancing at the owner of the voice. A man in his mid thirties, dressed in business attire leaned against the bar next to him. The accent sounded American. "Huh?"

"You just looked frustrated."

"Ah. Right. Flight troubles."

"Trying to get home?"

"Egypt, actually."

"Ahh. Taking a break from school and traveling?"

"Somethin' like that. Ah'm with some friends." He gestured in the direction of his female companions.

"Oh, I see." A smile flickered across his face. "You're very fortunate."

"Oh. They're not... Ah mean..." He glanced in Dom and Rachel's direction and groaned inwardly as he saw them both smirk and slide arms around each other's waist. He wanted to sink into the woodwork and hide.

"...oh. I see. That's really too bad." The gentleman drifted away from the bar, leaving Sam with his drink, face burning with embarrassment. 

Grabbing up the soda, he marched over to where the two women were sitting, still grinning like mad. "That wasn't funny!"

"You didn't think so?" Rachel glanced at Dom. "I thought it was... what about you?"

"Oh, I thought it was funny as hell," she snickered. "You should have seen the look of your face, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Y'all are _tryin'_ ta drive me nuts, aren't you?"

"Seriously, Sam, if you _knew_ the things that were going through that guy's head, you'd agree that he deserved it."

"Ah think Ah got a good idea of what he was thinkin', Ah'm just wonderin' why you two seem hell-bent on embarrassin' me ta death."

"Aww. Poor thing." Dom reached up and ruffled his hair, then laughed at the indignant look he gave her. "If it makes you feel better, I do this to _everyone_."

"Oh, yeah. Loads better, thanks."

----

His footsteps rang hollowly in the empty citadel, the enormous chamber vaulting far above his head, vanishing into darkness. Still as a tomb... and part of the man he'd lost laughed at that. His eyes scanned about ahead of him, though he knew the place was deserted. He could feel minds on the other side of the planet--had anyone been here, they would have stood out like a beacon. The empty room narrowed to a passageway, pitch black, though he didn't need light to guide him. His feet seemed to know where to take him of their own accord, while he just took in the surroundings. The passage widened, and the ceiling soared above him again, though light filtered in this time, from where, he did not know. On all sides lay stacked hundreds of stone sarcophagi, placed there for a purpose which escaped him. And lording over the entire space, glaring with a hateful eye that made something inside him twist in inexplicable rage, stood a single, frightfully carved sarcophagus, several stories tall and larger than any carved for a king. 

Whispers seemed to swirl around him, tantalizing fragments of the life he had lost, pulling, taunting him with knowledge they would not relinquish. He pushed past them, ignored them, tried to fight back against the howling in his head, and walked forward, place slow and even, until his hand came to rest on the cold stone surface of the hulking monstrosity. Then he turned, sat down on the edge of its pediment, and rested his arms on his knees. The ones who sought him were drawing closer. He settled in to wait.

----

"This the place?" Domino slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and eyed the building.

"Should be, if your information is right."

"I don't see why it wouldn't. Well, I suppose we should go in, see what we can find."

She pushed through the doors to the hotel, Sam and Rachel trailing behind her. She turned to the red-haired telepath. "Can you talk them into giving us a room key?"

"Cake walk. Wait here." With that, she strode over to the main desk, and began talking with the clerk. A few minutes later she returned, plastic key card in hand. "Ta-da. Room 234. Apparently, he paid in cash, for a week. That was four days ago."

"Well, let's check it out."

----

"Good god, he inherited his mother's fashion sense," Domino commented, sifting through a suitcase. The room had been immaculate--nothing on the tables or night stands indicating that he'd used the room at all, only two suitcases sitting in the closet, which she'd pulled out, in hopes that he'd left something useful in his luggage. No luck so far. Rachel had opted to try and scan for him again, now that they were in the city, in the hopes that proximity might cut back on the amount of interference. "Oh, don't look Sam, girly magazines. Guess I really _have_ been gone too long." 

Sam turned an interesting shade of red and looked away. Dom chuckled. "Find anythin' _useful_?"

"Nope. Just clothes... no maps, no plans, no nothing. I suppose it would be too much to hope for a note or a big map with 'I am here' scribbled on it." She sighed and started folding the contents to put them back, when something slipped free, landing with a dull 'thud' on the mattress. She reached down and picked it up, staring at the phoenix pendant spinning in a slow circle, reflecting the light from the lamp. After a moment, she reached out, wordlessly handing the object to Sam. He held it for a moment, then slipped the chain around his neck, and dropped the pendant beneath his shirt. The metal felt cool against his skin.

"Jus' 'til we find him an' Ah can give it back."

She nodded, and went back to repacking the suitcases. Sam left her to the task, walking over to where Rachel stood, eyes looking out the window at the city around him. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "He's close. But..." she trailed off. "I'm not getting anything from him, Sam. Nothing that _feels_ like him. Just this center of power. It's like his body's out there somewhere, but his mind..." She turned away again, and Sam rested a hand on her shoulder.

"We're gonna find him, an' we're gonna deal with whatever's gone wrong. Ah promise."

She looked back, smiling wanly. "I hope you're right."

----

Eyes fluttered open in near darkness. He'd slept finally, a chaotic sleep full of voices and places he didn't know, faces that had no names. The dreams left him troubled, and his eyes searched the gloom. Something had stirred him.  
His breathing harsh in his ears, he concentrated, scanning around him until he found what he suspected he would. Someone had found his sanctuary, and they were coming for him.

He stood, and beckoned to the one who'd been pursuing him.

----

The dunes seemed so serene, but Domino knew all too well the horrors the shifting sands could harbor. Closing her eyes briefly, images rose unbidden--the nightmarish mockery of future atrocity that Genesis had created as fresh as if it'd been only yesterday. And yet at the same time, it seemed impossibly long ago. Opening her eyes once again, she glanced at Sam, his face as stony as hers probably appeared, no doubt fighting back memories of his own. Rachel, in contrast, looked to be staring vacantly ahead, no doubt searching for the familiar mind that continued to elude her.

Sam's hand touched her shoulder. "We'll get there faster if Ah carry you."

Her eyes scanned the horizon once more, looked to Rachel, who nodded, then let her gaze fall to the sand at her feet. "Let's go find him."

She slipped an arm around Sam's neck, reminded again as his arms slid securely around her waist just how much things had changed. He'd grown up, and life had tainted his ever-present optimism with bitterness. It'd stolen a piece of his innocence. It was a thought that pained her in a way she couldn't quite place. Then the orange flicker of his blast field sprang to life around them, and they were off, the ground a blur beneath them. She'd only been a passenger a few times, and most of those flights hadn't given much time for reflection. Now, as the desert raced below them, she couldn't help but be impressed. Rachel trailed slightly behind them--the Phoenix may have moved on, but its departure hadn't left her weak. Anyone looking up at that moment might have mistaken them for falling stars.  
All too soon, their destination appeared on the horizon, growing as the neared the grim monolith. The sun had dipped below the dunes, leaving only a faint reddish glow to mark its passing as a sprinkle of stars appeared over head. Touching down lightly on the sand, the trio stared up at the imposing facade of Apocalypse's citadel, evil seeming to lurk about them.

"He's here," Rachel said quietly.

"Inside?" The inquiry was met with only a nod. No one moved.

"Well," Sam said finally, words cutting through palpable tension, "Might as well go on in. We came this far..."

With silent nods of acknowledgment from his companions, they all started towards the entrance.

The interior of the temple was surprisingly cool, and dark save for the dim light that trickled in through the entrance. Domino reached for the flashlight on her belt, and swept the beam along the walls and overhead. The air around them was silent, save for the sound of their breathing. 

Sam suppressed a shudder as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. As much as he would have loved to believe otherwise, he couldn't shake the certainty that nothing good was going to come from this. He glanced over at Domino, and the look on her face told him she was thinking the same thing.

"This way." Rachel's voice hissed through the stillness, seeming loud in the silence. They followed her command, slipping single file through a small passage that wound deeper into the citadel. 

"You sure this was a smart move?" Domino spoke up, voice barely a whisper. "Maybe we should have let him come to us. We're sitting ducks."

"He was calling to me," Rachel replied. "He knew I'd been looking for him."

"But?"

After a pause, she replied, "He seemed... confused. He knew I'd been searching for him, but I don't think I knew who I _was_."

"Then I guess we prepare for the worst."

The words were left hanging in the air as they continued on their way silently until the end of the passage appeared, widening into another cavernous room, at the center of which stood a motionless figure, bathed in the eerie, flickering glow of psionic energy.

"Nathan?" Her mind was screaming at her that this was a bad idea even as Domino broke from her companions and sprinted towards him. Dimly, she heard Sam's voice calling after her, but her eyes stayed locked on Nathan and the uncomprehending look in his eyes. "Nate?" She reached out warily, other hand resting on the handle of her gun, despite the uselessness of the weapon against the sort of power he was displaying.

"Who...?" He stared down at her a long moment, then jerked his head upwards, his attention shifted.

There wasn't time to step away. There wasn't even time to register that she'd been struck until her back hit the stone wall, and Domino collapsed breathlessly in a heap on the floor, vision dim, ears ringing. She pushed herself up off the floor with a groan, turning to face the commotion. The sight that greeted her filled her with a sick sense of dread. Both Nathan and Rachel were hovering in mid-air, and while it wasn't out of the ordinary for Rachel, there was something very unsettling about the sight of her partner floating fifteen feet off the floor, surrounded by a fiery telekinetic glow. Rachel seemed to be taking the blows that Nathan rained down on her shields with an unconcerned calm, though Dom wasn't sure how long she could bear up under the brute force he was directing at her. 

He was also ranting in Askani, and for once, she was glad she didn't understand a word of it. The sight itself was awful enough--she wasn't sure she could stand conclusive proof that Nathan had lost his mind.

----

Sam barely saw the swing. One moment, Dom was standing mere inches from Cable, despite the fact that she should have known better, and the next she'd been tossed like a rag doll across the room as Nathan's gaze shifted from the dark haired mercenary to Rachel. Shouting something in Askani that Sam didn't understand, he'd launched himself into the air--a true testament as to just the sort of powers the man was now wielding, and dove towards them. Sam had rolled away instinctively while Rachel went on the defensive, beating back her brother's telekinetic blows. Across the room, he saw Dom move, albeit very little, and considered his options. Cable appeared preoccupied, but he wasn't sure he wanted to chance a dash around the room. If he blasted, the worst that could happen, he supposed, was that he'd get bounced off a few walls.

He blasted low, half-anticipating a blow that never came, and touched down beside Dom, who was staring at the confrontation in the center of the room with wide eyes. "You alright?"

"Just--bruised, I think," she replied, glancing over at him. "This is..."

"Not good," he finished.

"That's an understatement. Shit. I knew this wasn't likely to be good, but I didn't expect..."

"Ah don't think any of us did."

"Rachel might have," Dom replied grimly.

"Ya think? She coulda said somethin.'"

"To what end? If she knew, then I'm sure she had a reason for not saying anything."

Sam frowned, but didn't pursue it. "What do ya think he's sayin' to her?"

"Nothing good. Fuck... we can't let this go on. And I'm utterly useless here. I don't think shooting at him is likely to get his attention. We need to take Nate out now--we can sort out the rest of this crap when he's not trying to kill us."

"You got something in mind?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Depends. You up to playing human ping-pong ball?"

----

Another telekinetic blow smashed into Rachel Summers' defenses, and she winced, feeling the strain as she deflected the force. Nathan was stronger than her now--there was no doubting that--but his command of the power was reckless, and so far he hadn't been able to breach her shield. It was only a matter of time, however, and part of her mind was reeling with the implications of what would happen if he got loose. Her arrival here had triggered something in him--one moment he'd been staring at Domino in bewilderment, and the next he had lunged at her, screaming in rage. He was still yelling--her grasp of Askani was fragmentary, gleaned from the few memories of the Mother Askani that she somehow possessed--but his mind was an open book, his mental defenses all but gone.

_'Rachel, can you hear me?'_

_#I'm a bit busy at the moment, Dom,# _she sent back hastily, cursing under her breath as her TK shield flickered.

_'I noticed,'_ came Dom's dry reply. _'We need to just take him out. We can sort the rest out later. Sam can play decoy, but is there anything you can do on your end?'_

_#Maybe,#_ she gritted her teeth, trying to drive Nathan back. He was attempting to get her pinned against the wall, and she didn't want to give up any more ground. The blows were becoming more refined, as well, seeking to pierce through her armor. _#Of course, he could be hearing this entire conversation.#_

_'The thought had occurred to me,'_ she responded. _'But I'm not a bloody pulp yet, and I'm hoping his damned single-mindedness will work for us. Or, barring that, pure luck.'_

_#That's your department, not mine, I'm afraid.#_ Summoning up greater concentration, she repelled Nathan backwards, managing to send him crashing into Apocalypse's regeneration chamber. The facade cracked, sending large chunks of stonework crashing to the ground below. Rachel took advantage of the momentary lull and strengthened her defenses again while Nathan shoved himself to his feet, shaking off stone shards and rubble. Snarling, he advanced towards Rachel again, only to be knocked from his feet as Sam slammed into him from behind.

_"Sorry, sir, Ah hate ta do this, but there's not much choice." They slammed into the opposite wall, the impact jarring, despite his blast shield. Stone cracked and crumbled around them. _

Cable seemed momentarily dazed, then spat something in Askani, and Sam found himself unceremoniously tossed across the room. He skidded to a halt on the floor, wincing. 

"Rachel, I think if you're gonna do something, now would be a good time!" Domino shouted to the redheaded telepath as she sprinted toward where Sam had fallen, ignoring her own injuries. "You okay?"

He nodded, wiping at a trickle of blood that ran from the corner of his mouth. "Sucker-punched me is all," he replied, rubbing his jaw gingerly. "Ah'll be fine."

The pair looked upward, watching as Cable renewed his assault on Rachel. For her part, Rachel had gone on the offensive this time, lashing back at her brother instead of calmly absorbing the blows that rained down on her telekinetic shielding. 

_#Sam, hit him again. His mental shields are blown--I think I can shut him down, but I need him distracted.#_

"You got it." The blast field flickered and Domino jumped back as he took off.

The room was suddenly washed with a blinding blaze of light, and the ground shook with a cracking report like the noise of a hundred gunshots. 

Then everything went black.

----

The air was still, the silence nearly absolute, only the distant sound of shifting rubble and the harsh noise of his own breathing disrupting the stillness. This time, however, it wasn't dark. Sam's blast field lit the small space with an orange light, protecting him from the weight of the debris above him.

He crouched in the small shelter, trying to get a fix on just what had happened. One instant he'd been rocketing toward the two battling telekinetics in hopes of distracting Cable, and the next, the place had literally come down around their ears. He'd only had a split second to protect himself before he was buried. He could only hope that Rachel and Domino had had more warning. He didn't feel terribly optimistic, however. He could blast himself free, he was sure, but concern that someone might be above or near by stayed his hand for a time before he decided that staying where he was wasn't an option, and he'd just have to take the risk.   
Shifting the focus of the field, he slammed his way through the mounds of rock that'd imprisoned him, flying free into the clear darkness of the desert sky, stars as cold as ice chips above him. Arcing back over the site of the citadel, he was met with the image of utter destruction. It looked as if a bomb had gone off, destroying the structure entirely, leaving only a mangled heap of ancient stone and alien-looking technology. Below him, nothing stirred, and a tight knot of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

He landed to one end of debris field, eyeing the scene with dismay. Even if he'd had some clue as to where the others were, alone there wasn't much he'd be able to do to free them from the piles of masonry and twisted metal. 

_#It's okay, Sam.#_

The voice in his head caused him to jump slightly, and the sound of sliding rock split through the quiet as Rachel emerged, telekinesis flickering out as she landed lightly atop a heap of rubble. "I managed to toss up a shield before I was buried."

"What happened?"

"Nathan caught wind of what we were trying to do," she replied.

"Are they..."

Rachel frowned, a pained look flickering across her face as if using her powers hurt. "They're alive... unconscious."

"Can you pinpoint where? We can't leave 'em like this. An' it'd take too long ta get help.

"I think so," she replied. "I caught backlash from Nathan while I was trying to switch his powers off, but I should be able to find them." She picked her way across the broken rock, a look of concentration stamped on her face. "Try here."

He kneeled down beside her and started excavating, made more difficult by the way the rock continued to shift and settle around them. After a few minutes, they hit an opening in the rock where two of the stone slabs had fallen together at an angle like a makeshift roof over Domino's prone form. By now, Rachel was using her telekinesis to keep the surrounding rock from collapsing. Sam hopped down into the makeshift shelter, crouching beside the unconscious mercenary. "Ah'm not sure if we should move her or not."

"Think you're going to have to. I'm not sure I can keep this from falling apart much longer."

Nodding, Sam picked the woman up gently and carefully climbed out of the hole. Rachel released her hold and rock slid in to fill the void. Sam picked his way carefully to the edge of the rock field and laid Dom on the sand. He couldn't see any signs of obvious trauma, though she was bleeding from a few cuts probably caused by splintered stone. Her luck seemed to have saved her from any serious injury, though he couldn't rule out internal injuries from a glance, especially considering the force with which Cable had thrown her into the wall earlier. Rachel had gone back out, no doubt trying to find where Nathan lay.

The dark-haired mercenary made a soft, pained noise and curled on her side, coughing. Sam touched her shoulder lightly. "You alright?"

"I'll live," she replied hoarsely, though she made no further movement, her eyes still closed. 

"Ah don't doubt that, but we ought to--"

"Sam!" Rachel's shout cut him off, and he jerked his head up.

"You find him?"

"Sort of. He's a few miles that way." She pointed further into the desert. "And there's someone else with him."

"Heck." He frowned. "You okay to fly?"

"I think I'll be okay," Rachel replied, walking back over to him. "I'm more shaken up than anything else. How's she doing?"

"Think we should see about gettin' her some medical attention fairly quick," he replied. "Ah can carry her if you point the way, though. We can't leave him out here."

Rachel nodded and took off in the direction she'd indicated, and Sam scooped up Domino carefully trying not to jostle her too badly as he raced over the desert sands. 

----

The spot was easy to find--in part owing to the strange ship that sat atop one of the dunes. Sam cursed silently as they landed and he saw just who the 'someone' with Cable was. 

"Blaquesmith."

"Eh?" The diminutive figure looked up from where he crouched over Cable's still form. "Ahh. I was wondering how long it would take you."

"Just what the heck is goin' on here?"

"Sam, let me try." Rachel advanced across the sand. "Blaquesmith, what's going on here?"

"Dayspring is in need of assistance," he replied. "I'm attempting to render that."

"I can see that, " Rachel replied, pursing her lips. She knew that the odd mutant held reverence for her--for the woman she would have become had Nathan not defeated Apocalypse. It wasn't a mantle she was at all comfortable with, but she knew it was probably the best way to get a straight answer. "Where were you _before_ all this happened?"

Blaquesmith craned his neck to look up at her. "I've been following Nathan, waiting for the best time to act."

"You knew what was happening?"

"For longer than you have been aware of the situation," he admitted. "I did not anticipate him causing such trouble," he added, in an almost scolding manner.

"Then you know what caused this."

"I do. I also know your intentions to deliver Nathan back into his hands."

"Hey, hold the phone here a sec," Sam cut in. "Ah get the feeling Ah'm not getting the whole picture here. Just what haven't you told us?"

A pained look crossed Rachel's face. "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't want to say anything until I knew for certain." She glanced back at Blaquesmith, who gave a slight nod. "Charles did this."

"Professor Xavier? Now wait a dang minute. Ah know Ah don't see eye ta eye with him, but Ah can't believe he'd--"

"I don't believe these results were intentional," Blaquesmith interrupted. "However, I cannot allow you to--"

"_I_ can't allow _you_ to take Nathan," Rachel replied. "If we take him to Westchester, at least Sam and Domino can keep an eye on what happens."

"With all respect, I don't believe--"

"I don't care." Rachel snapped. "I know you respect my judgment, Blaquesmith. Despite whatever the Mother Askani might have told you before, I want you to listen to me now. I need you to take him back to Xavier's. Sam and Domino will go with you. He can get the medical attention he needs, and neither of us will have to tip our hands just yet. I want to find out just what he was trying to accomplish by sending Nate off on this stupid mission to begin with."

"No--way in hell," Domino's voice cut in hoarsely. "I'm not cooperating with him." She glared at Blaquesmith while Sam supported her. "All he ever does is use Nate for his own damned agenda."

Rachel flicked her eyes from the mercenary to the man supporting her. "Sam?"

Cannonball had only an instant to react as Domino slumped suddenly, unconscious.

"I'm sorry," Rachel responded as he scowled at her. "She was only going to hurt herself."

"Great," he commented sarcastically. "An' while Ah hate ta interrupt, don't ya think we ought ta actually do somethin' for Cable instead of standin' round arguin' over him?"

"There's nothing more to argue about. Blaquesmith is going to take the three of you back to Westchester. I'm sure you can make up some sort of plausible story--just don't let Charles know that either of us is involved. I'll get in touch with you once I've had more time to work out just what's going on."

"Now, hold on. Just what the heck am Ah s'posed to do if he wakes up an' decides he don't wanna stay put?"

"Dayspring is in a deep state of unconsciousness for now," Blaquesmith spoke up. "I believe it should last for some time."

"Just wonderful," Sam sighed. "Well, Ah guess this is what Ah get for pokin' my nose into things. A heap full of trouble." He glanced over at Rachel. "Ah'm trustin' that you're gonna do the right thing here. If ya betray that..."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sam. Nathan's very dear to me. I know you might not believe me, but I'd never do him harm."

"Alright," he sighed, adjusting his hold on Domino's still form so he could carry her. He turned to Blaquesmith. "Lead the way."


	3. Act III

**Dunsinane  
Act III**  
by Timesprite

"One more time, Sam, just so we're clear."

With a sigh, Samuel Guthrie dove back into his explanation of the events of the last two weeks. The story he'd formulated on the flight into Westchester had come to him more easily than he would have expected--then again, he wasn't flat out lying, either. Just omitting and editing where necessary. All the repetition was making him hoarse. Granted, the original explanation had been somewhat hurried as his unceremonious appearance on the lawn with his two injured companions had caused quite the stir.  
Cable was, for all intents and purposes, in good condition. Banged up from the fight with Rachel, but Sam was more worried about what would happen once the man woke up than he was about his actual survival. Domino had been another story. Blaquesmith had done his best with the equipment he had on hand, but she'd only gotten worse as the flight progressed, and by the time they'd reached the mansion, she'd been critical. Hank was still down dealing with her, but last he'd been told she was doing better, despite a collapsed lung.

With an inward sigh, he hurried through the end of his retelling, grateful that this was almost over. It seemed he'd been on his feet non-stop since this entire mess had started, and he was exhausted. Maybe Scott would take pity on him and let him sleep now. His eyes skimmed over the assembled faces, noting once again how much things had changed since he'd last been with the X-Men. He was fairly sure they weren't completely buying his story. Understandable, since it all seemed a little crazy to him, and he'd experienced it all.

"There is just one thing you haven't made clear, Samuel," Xavier spoke up. "How is it you arrived _here_?"

A part of him had been really hoping they'd neglect to ask that. He met Charles' gaze steadily, reinforcing his mental shields as he did so. "Ah'm afraid Ah can't tell you that, sir."

"You don't know, or you won't divulge the information?" He pressed.

"Ah made a promise not to tell."

"Sam," Cyclops broke in, sounding ever so slightly critical. He _would_ side with the professor, of course. He didn't know. Would he still feel that way, he wondered, once the truth behind the whole debacle came out? 

"Ya'll are just gonna have to trust me on this one."

Scott sighed and nodded tiredly, no doubt worried over what he'd just heard about his wayward son's activities. It was a lot to swallow, Sam supposed, even if he was used to Nathan's way of doing things by now. "All right. I'm going to assume that you wouldn't have done that without a good reason, because I know you, Sam, and I know you wouldn't do anything without justification. Why don't you go get some sleep? You look like you could use it. Anything else that comes up can wait until morning."

----

He ducked into the medlab on his way upstairs. Henry was working intently on something but looked up as Sam stepped in. "Something I can assist you with Samuel?"

"Nah. Just wanted ta see how they were doin.'"

"Both stable. Jean is with Nathan now."

Sam nodded. He wished he could have told Jean what he knew--but he couldn't, not when he couldn't tell her _how_ he knew it. "Can Ah go see Dom? Ah don't think anyone else is likely to, 'sides Logan, anyway."

"Of course."

He nodded his thanks and walked down to the room. The first thought that entered his head was that she looked fragile surrounded by machines, wires, and tubes. Dom wasn't supposed to look fragile, and it bothered him a little. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before finally walking in and taking her hand lightly.  
It could have been worse. If Blaquesmith hadn't been there, she might have died in the desert before there'd been a chance to get her help. Hank was being cautious, keeping her sedated for now. She wasn't likely to be very cooperative once she was awake, so Sam couldn't really fault him for the intervention. He sat down in one of the chairs and sighed. He felt like his mind had been going a million miles an hour for the last few days and it was only now that he'd had time to slow down that the reality of the situation was beginning to settle on his shoulders. None of this was his fault, and he knew it. Still, a part of him felt bad at having asked Dom along on his little endeavor, knowing that she wasn't at her best. But then, he'd hoped to help on that front, as well.

"Sam?"

He broke away from his inner musings, looking up to see Jean leaning in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Have you had a chance to sleep yet?"

"No, ma'am. Was going to, but then, it didn't seem right ta just leave her alone like that."

She walked into the room. "I can stay for a bit. Granted, I'm probably not the person she'd pick, but under the circumstances I don't think it'll hurt."

He nodded. "Ah appreciate that." He got up and headed for the door. As he passed, Jean reached out and touched him on the arm. He paused.

"Sam, I wanted to thank you--for doing this. I think we were all so used to Nathan acting on his own... I feel responsible for not noticing something was wrong."

He shook his head. "Not your fault. It ain't anyone's fault, really." The lie felt like acid on his tongue. "We just got to deal with the situation now that we know 'bout it." He just wished he knew how he was going to do that.

----

"How is he?"

Jean leaned in the doorway, contemplating the back of her husband's head as he worked at one of the computer terminals in the War Room. "The same. It wouldn't kill you to go see him yourself."

Scott Summers half turned in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry," he replied. "It's just..." He looked back to the computer screen. "I can't figure out what he was hoping to _accomplish_ with all of this."

Jean crossed the room and touched his shoulder lightly. He'd been tense since his return from the 'dead,' his possession by the mad external Apocalypse. Nathan had helped her save him from the ordeal, but hadn't hung around to deal with the fallout. Things just weren't the same, and the current turn of events was only further proof of that. "Nathan's motivations never _were_ easy to figure out, Scott. Whatever it was, it probably made sense to him at the time."

"That's not terribly reassuring," he sighed.

"I know. Unfortunately, he's the only one who can enlighten us, and I still haven't been able to reach him." She sat down next to him. "Scott, I was speaking to Charles earlier. He suggested that it might be time to intervene."

Scott turned to look at her, face expressionless behind his ruby quartz glasses. "It's only been a week."

"I know," she sighed. "I told him we'd rather wait a bit longer... see if he comes out of this on his own. Charles is concerned that he poses a threat."

Cyclops stared down at the console for a long moment. "We've had greater risks to security than Nathan in the mansion before," he murmured, looked up again. "I have a bad feeling about all of this. Something isn't right. Sam wasn't telling us the whole truth about what happened, I'm sure of it."

Jean smiled thinly. "He's not a very convincing liar." 

"Because he doesn't _do_ it," he replied. "He must have good reason, which is why I haven't pushed the issue. But if he knows something that could help me sort this all out..." He trailed off. "Maybe I should go talk to him."

Jean leaned in and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You should. _After_ you go see Nathan."

----

"How you feelin'?"

"Like--hell."

The words were more mouthed than actually spoken--Hank had taken Dom off the respirator yesterday but hadn't started backing off on the sedation until that morning. Sam reached over and took a pitcher and cup off a tray beside the bed. He poured a little water into the cup and handed it to her. She took a sip, giving him a grateful look. "How is--"

"He's the same. Looks like Blaquesmith was right about us not havin' ta worry on that account," he continued, voice pitched low to avoid being overheard. The entire situation was making him paranoid. He'd spent the last week constantly looking over his shoulder, and even Scott had told him he needed to relax a little. If only it were that simple. 

Dom nodded, then rested her head back on the pillow, eyes sliding closed. There were tiny lines of pain etched on her face, as if simply being conscious hurt. "Sam... I'm sorry."

He frowned. "There's nothin' to be apologizing for here."

Her eyes slid open a crack, her expression strangely sad. "No... I'm sorry that--you have to be a part of this... it never should have happened." 

"Well, it has, and there ain't any point in wishin' it hadn't, now is there?"

A thin smile formed on her face. "What is--is."

"Now you're just teasin' me," he replied, realizing an instant too late that she'd drifted off to sleep.

----

"Sam."

Sam stopped mid-step on his way out of the medlab and cast a glance over his shoulder. Scott approached him from down the hall, apparently having come from Cable's room. "Problem?" He asked as the elder X-Man reached him.

"I was just wondering if we could have a talk, Sam." He saw suspicion flash across the younger man's face and added, "Off the record. I'm not trying to interrogate you, and this isn't an order. I get the impression something's bothering you, maybe something you want to talk about?"

Sam frowned. "Ah'd love to, really. But Ah'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Look, Sam, if you know something you think could help--"

"It ain't that," he replied. "You know Ah want him ta get better as much as ya'll do... Ah just don't think you're gonna like what Ah have ta say, is all."

"Well, why don't you tell me, and I can judge. Right now, I'd be grateful for any sort of illumination you can offer, Sam. This situation isn't making sense to me, and I have a feeling that's because I haven't been told the whole truth."

Sam stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Alright. Ah'll tell ya what I can, but y'r gonna have ta deal with the fact that there are some things Ah just can't share. Not right now."

"I think I can handle that. You eaten yet?"

"Nope."

"Good."

----

The interior of Harry's Hideaway was smoky yet comforting in an inexplicable way. The atmosphere seemed to fold itself around Sam, and he relaxed, just a little, as he wondered just how many events in the secret lives of the X-Men the building had been witness too.

"Sam... you're expecting me to just take this on good faith?"

"Well, yeah. Ah guess Ah am."

"It really doesn't help your credibility that you won't tell me _who_ told you this."

"Ah know. But Ah promised. Ah wish ta hell Ah _could_ tell ya, it'd prolly make this a lot easier. But all Ah can say is that Ah trust 'em, an' Ah don't see why they'd lie 'bout this."

"Sam, these are pretty serious accusations you're making against the Professor here. Did you stop to think that maybe the person telling you this is trying to create a divide in the X-Men? Break up the ranks?"

"Nope. An' if you knew who this was we're talkin' about, neither would you." Sam leaned forward on his elbows, giving Scott an earnest look. "Ah respect the Professor, really. Haven't always agreed with him, that ain't a secret, but Ah'm not about to let someone make accusations just 'cause we got a few personal differences. Believe me, Ah wish that all this was--another person tryin' ta burn down everything we've spent years holdin' together--but it just ain't, and that's what makes it worse. Ah believe them, and Ah wish ta God I didn't."

Scott Summers' face remained a composed mask, whatever emotions that may have been readable in his eyes obscured by his glasses. "Sam, I'd like to trust you on this. But I just _can't_ make that judgment given the information you've given me. There just isn't enough proof."

"Ah know. An' Ah really wasn't expectin' ya to, ta be honest. But do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Ask Jean somethin' for me. Ask her why, when Cable was runnin' 'round, doin' the kinds of things he was, usin' his powers like he was... why is it not a single telepath noticed? Why didn't _she_ notice?"

Scott looked at the younger man for a long moment, obviously contemplating the question himself, before finally speaking. "Okay, Sam. I'll ask." 

----

"I understand your concern Charles, but do you really think this is necessary? Maybe we should give him more time... allow Nathan's mind to recover on its own? If he's withdrawn like this, maybe it's because he's trying to heal himself." Jean Grey set aside her teacup on a small side table, and leaned back in the richly upholstered chair. Xavier faced her from across his desk, setting aside his own identical cup.

"Believe me Jean, I know how you must feel about this. You fear for his well being. Which is why I'm asking for your and Scott's cooperation in this matter. While it very well may be that Nathan has simply shielded himself in order to recover, we can't be sure of it, and unless we intervene to determine whether he is a threat, we are forced to conclude that we have a ticking time bomb in our midst. I am not willing to gamble the lives of all those here on the assumption that Nathan is merely 'pulling himself together.' Are you?"

Jean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. "This isn't the first instance we've housed someone who poses a potential threat, Professor. So far, Nathan's shown no sign of conscious thought, let alone threat of harm to himself or others."

"And we paid dearly for those previous leniencies, Jean. If, as you say, Nathan poses no danger to anyone, than I am fully willing to let him recover on his own. But I do not like to leave the safety of my students resting on an uncertainty." He paused. "Nathan is your son. I understand what it is like to be faced with a situation like this, and I will not force any sort of action upon you. I can only tell you what I believe is best. And what I believe is that it would be negligent of us not to investigate this further."

Jean sighed. "You're right, of course. I'd like some time... to think about this, talk it over with Scott. Thank you, Professor. This has all just been so hard to come to grips with."

"Trust me, Jean, I have empathy for your position. It is a difficult place for any parent to be placed in, no matter how old their child is. We can only hope that everything will right itself in the end."

Jean uncurled her legs from beneath her. "I appreciate your input on this, Charles. There's a lot to consider, of course." She smiled thinly and retrieved her cup from the table. "I'll speak with Scott, see how he feels, try to explain your concerns over all of this." She rubbed the side of her head with her free hand. "This has been trying for the both of us. Goodnight, Professor."

----

Domino swung her legs over the side of the bed and stared down at the burnished metal of the medlab's floor. Probably cold, a part of her mind noted idly as she sat there, arms braced against the mattress, the rest of her trying to decide if her legs would hold her weight.

"Goin' somewhere?"

She looked up, startled, but unwilling to show it. "What are you, my personal shadow?"

"Nah." Sam pushed off the doorjamb and walked over to her. "Actually, had a bet goin' with Hank on how long he could keep ya here."

She smiled thinly. "Who won?"

Sam glanced at the clock on the far wall. "Let's see... twelve hours since ya woke up? Look like he owes me twenty."

"Guess I'm just too damned predictable," she muttered and pushed herself to her feet. The floor was as cold as she'd imagined it'd be. Sam reached for her arm, but she brushed him off. "I can stand on my own," she snapped.

He dropped his hand. "Alright, if ya say so," he sighed. "Don't s'pose Ah can talk ya into takin' it easy."

"I don't like this place, Sam," she replied, voice still raw sounding. "That's all."

"You really shouldn't be up."

"I know that," she replied in irritation. "I'm not stupid. But I'm sick of laying here."

"Well, Ah made sure there was a room for you upstairs. Ah'll take ya up there, but you gotta promise you'll hold off on doin' anything stupid for a few more days."

She cast him a sideways glance and sighed. "Alright, Sam. You've got a deal."

He picked up a blanket from the bed and draped it over her shoulders. "Good." He slid an arm across her back, ignoring the glare she gave him. She didn't want his help, but she was just going to have to deal with it, because he didn't have any intention of backing off. She wanted everyone to leave her alone, and he knew that was the last thing she needed.  
She stood on the opposite side of the elevator, hugging herself slightly as they ascended out of the sub-basement and up to the second floor dormitories. Turning left, he counted off the rooms, then opened a door. "Here ya go. Ah put your bags in the closet."

"Thanks." In the grey half-light of the hallway, her thin smile looked ghostly. "I know I've complained a lot--"

"That's puttin' it lightly," Sam teased.

"But," she continued, ignoring the good-natured interruption, "I appreciate it, Sam."

"Ah know." He touched her shoulder lightly. "Sleep well."

"I'll try." She waited a moment longer as she watched him disappear down the hallway before stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, letting out a soft sigh of pain. Across from her, strong moonlight was flooding in through the barred windows, intensified by the covering of snow that blanketed the estate. It was the first time she'd seen the outside since she'd lost consciousness in the desert, and though she'd known, logically, where she was, part of her had still been expecting dunes of sand. The effect was somewhat jarring.

Folding the blanket and dropping it on the empty dresser top, she walked to the closet and dug through her bag for her own pajamas. It felt good just to be out of the damned infirmary. She walked into the small bathroom and started the shower, stripping off the medical scrubs and wincing at her reflection in the mirror. After a week, the bruises that mottled her body had faded a bit, but the sickly yellow still stood in sharp contrast on her white skin, as did the long, thin surgical scar that ran along her torso. Granted, the Shi'ar tech McCoy had access to had reduced what would have been a painful incision to little more than a thin, pink line on her side, and it could have been far worse, but it still hurt a good deal, and she knew she probably shouldn't have been moving around as much as she was.   
She stepped into the shower and sighed again, this time out of pleasure as the hot water hit her skin. After letting the water stream over her for a few minutes, she shampooed her hair and gingerly cleaned her skin, then turned off the water and stepped out, toweling off and pulling on her PJs before roughly drying her hair and giving it a quick comb through. She left the bathroom and flipped back the covers on the bed, climbing in. The soft mattress cradled her battered body as she laid back on the pillows and stared out at the snow-frosted landscape that spread before the large windows. 

----

"I talked to Charles again." Jean's voice was soft in the darkness as she watched the still form of her husband at the window, hands on the sill, intent on the landscape below him. "Something's bothering you," she said after a moment of silence. 

He looked back at her, moonlight glinting momentarily off his glasses in a red flash. "What did he have to say?"

She sighed, sweeping her long red hair over a shoulder as she remained seated on the edge of their bed. "He's still convinced it's the right thing to do."

"Why?"

Jean frowned. There was a trace of bitterness... of suspicion? in Scott's voice. "The same, really. He wants to ascertain for certain whether or not Nathan poses a danger..." she trailed off. Through their rapport, she could sense a feeling of unease, of uncertainty bubbling beneath his surface thoughts--something he was trying to keep from her. Something that was bothering him on a very deep and intimate level. "I did try to reason with him--I pointed out that Nathan is certainly no greater threat in this state than Sabertooth ever was... he said he didn't want to risk making the same mistakes he had in the past. I can see his point, of course..." She stopped, acutely aware that her husband's attention was not focused on her words. "Scott, talk to me. Something's the matter. Did you speak with Sam?"

He turned to face her then, backlit by the silver of reflected moonlight. "I did," he replied. "Nothing good came of it."

She stood, walking to him, and rested a hand in his shoulder. He was so familiar, the man she had loved for forever, it seemed, and yet different... distant, as he had been since freed from Apocalypse's grasp. "Well, what did he say?"

Scott reached out, touching the side of her face lightly, then dropped his hand. "Not a whole lot--there was so much he said he just couldn't tell me... the gist of it, though, was that the Professor had a hand in what happened to Nate."

"That's not possible."

"That's what I told him. But he knew the seriousness of the accusations he was making, and he believed them, Jean. That worries me."

"Well, there's obviously been a mistake made somewhere. Charles wouldn't--"

"I know, I know. But Sam had a question for you, one that's been bothering me since he asked it. He wanted to know why, with everything that Nathan was doing... why didn't you sense it? Why didn't _anyone_ notice? Not you, not Emma, not even the Professor. And for the life of me Jean, I can't find an answer to that one."

She stared at him, green eyes wide, then looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't know, Scott. He's hard to read clearly sometimes, but... You're right... Sam's right. God, I have no idea."


	4. Act IV

**Dunsinane  
Act IV**  
by Timesprite

Things had gone to hell.

That was putting it lightly, Jean thought humorlessly as she paced restlessly before the large living room windows. Scott had sequestered himself in the War Room alone not long after everything had exploded in their faces, and the Professor had excused himself to his study. As much as she wanted to talk to them both, she couldn't. She couldn't even get her thoughts straight at the moment. Her lingering headache wasn't helping matters, and she wasn't even sure what to say. What to feel. Charles had finally convinced her that it was time to reach Nathan, to discover what they could, to help him if they could. They'd failed, and failed miserably, at that.  
Things had started well enough; her son's mind had been surprisingly easy to enter, given that both she and the professor had always had a difficult time 'reading' him. What they'd found was darkness, a void in which they could see nothing, find nothing, though it wasn't the same hollow feeling she'd had entering Legion's mind so long ago, when Charles had been in a position so similar to what she faced now. He'd been trying desperately--and ultimately, futilely--to reach his son, and it was only after intervention on her part that she and her teammates had persuaded him to give up the search. Her heart had sunk at the memory, but she hadn't let it overwhelm her. She'd felt _something_ there, something that told her Nathan was still there, trying to keep them away, perhaps. 

They'd pressed on, groping blindly in the abyss for something to guide them. They were unrelenting, and the longer they worked, the more and more she began to feel that the darkness was artificial, constructed by someone... she couldn't be sure who, though the feeling was both familiar and yet not, stirring some deep trace of memory within her.

And then the darkness began to fade. It was a slow transition at first, nearly imperceptible, the light and sounds muffled and far away. There was ground under their feet now, and an atmosphere, hot and humid, clinging to their skin. Sometimes the sheer strength of these mental constructs could still amaze her. As things got more solid and the dark receded, she 'd began to make out jungle around her, and cast a glance back at Charles, who followed silently behind her as they followed the narrow path through the foliage.  
The air had become full of sound, unnatural noises that had hissed and screamed around them, ripping through the air and making the landscape shudder. It hadn't been a peaceful place, despite first appearances. It was a war zone, though the battle held its distance. They'd finally found Nathan in the middle of a clearing, his broad back to them as he sat silently, legs folded as in meditation. They'd both hesitated then, waiting to be acknowledged, before Charles finally cleared his throat. 

"Nathan..."

"Go. Away."

The words came as a low growl through the dense jungle air, and the shrieks and explosions around them grew louder, joined by voices, as flashes of light appeared through the dense undergrowth. The menace that wrapped itself around them had been incredible, and she knew now that, at that instant, she'd been afraid of him. Truly afraid of the man that her son had become for the first time.

"Nathan..." Her 'voice' had wavered then, uncertain of what to say.

In the end, it hadn't mattered.

With a sound like a wild animal, he'd sprung to his feet, fixing the two of them with the wild eyed stare of a cornered, wounded beast, staring them down with a ferocity that had left her cold all over. And then he'd thrown them out.

She'd come to with a shock, her head reeling and in pain. Charles had been in a similar state, more shocked than she, perhaps, because he was unused to anyone deflecting his investigations. Worse, however, than the jarring return her own body had been the realization that Nathan was gone. The bed where he'd lain motionless for more than two weeks was empty. She'd learned later from Scott and Hank that he'd simply bolted from the bed and vanished an instant before she'd returned. Bodysliding. Sam had mentioned it, but she hadn't believed it until now. All of their attempts to find Nathan since then had failed. Wherever he'd gone, he'd managed to make himself invisible. She ran a hand back through her hair with a frustrated sigh, and walked out and down the hall to the back door. The sun had set, and she felt closed in inside the mansion, where the ripples of what had happened that afternoon were still spreading and reverberating through the walls. She pulled on her coat and stepped out into the night.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. There was nothing you could do."

Jean's head jerked up, as startled by the fact that she'd managed to miss another's presence as she was by the familiarity of the voice. She simply stared as the figure emerged from the shadow of the building.

A smile flitted across Rachel's face. "Hi, Mom."

----

The hallway around her was little more than a red haze as Domino marched towards the closed doors of Professor Xavier's office. She'd been asleep most of the day, and by the time she'd put in her appearance downstairs, the whole mansion had been buzzing with news of that morning's disaster. The heavy wood made a satisfying 'thump' as she threw the doors open.   
Charles looked up--he'd sensed her coming-- and regarded her for a moment before speaking. "Is there something I can do for you, Domino?"

"You _asshole_," she hissed, approaching the large desk.

"Excuse me?" The calm look he fixed on her pushed her over the edge. There was something about the poise of his tone that sent her last shreds of self-control skittering away. Before she'd taken time to fully consider her actions, she swung, catching him cleanly on the jaw. Xavier's head snapped around, a startled look flashing across his face. He hadn't seen it coming, obviously.

"Never, _ever_ use Nathan as your fucking errand boy _again_!" She shouted, slamming her hands down on the desk. "Or god help me, I will use that fucking chrome-dome of yours for target practice!"

Charles gave her an infuriatingly mild look, rubbing at his jaw gingerly. "Is there a problem?"

"You _knew_ how messed up he was," she hissed. "You knew and you took advantage of it, you sick fuck. You could have _asked_ him. But you didn't. No, instead you took advantage of an utterly vulnerable man, and forced him to do what you wouldn't. Can't have blood on _your_ hands, after all. Fuck you, Xavier. Fuck you and your entire fucking empire. This 'dream' is nothing more than some giant goddamned _chess_ game, and you're the bastard who gets off on manipulating people like pawns! And now look what you've done!" She stopped, trying to catch her breath, and leaned across the desk at him. "If you ever come _near_ Nathan again, almighty telepathic powers or no, your X-Men will be scraping your vaunted brains off the fucking wall."   
She stood and marched out of the room, ignoring the saucer-eyed stares she got along the way. The entire mansion had no doubt heard her yelling, but frankly, she didn't give a damn. Halfway back to her temporary living space, footsteps took up pace behind her. She didn't even turn her head, she knew who it was. There was only one person who'd dare follow her when she was in this sort of mood--two, she corrected, but the other was God knew where. "Back off Sam. Just, don't." 

"With all respect, ma'am, I can't do that."

She reached her door and threw it open. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Ah don't want anything. Ah just don't think it's a good thing for ya to be alone right now."

"Sam, I appreciate the offer, but--" She collapsed on the bed, still not looking at him and trying to ignore the pain in her chest. She probably shouldn't have done that. "Damn, I should probably pack. The goon squad will no doubt be here to kick me out for threatening their Grand Pooh-Bah like that."

"Ah think you just told him what a few of us have already been thinking. Ah know _Ah_ wanted to." He paused. "Though, hittin' him was probably a bit much."

"Well, I suppose. I just--ah, shit." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "If Nate... because of what _he_ pulled..." She trailed off, taking a shuddering breath. An instant later Sam was beside her, pulling her into a strong hug. She buried her head in his shoulder. "Oh, god."

----

"Rachel? How--" She was left speechless, staring at the young woman she'd thought lost forever.

"Well, I didn't want to upset tradition by staying lost." She smiled thinly. "I think I've probably got some explaining to do. Can we go inside?" 

"I don't suppose this timing is coincidence," Jean commented wryly as the pair entered the mansion.

"Afraid not. It's sort of an involved story. But I take it I was right in assuming Nathan's vanished? I'm not reading him anywhere in the building."

"He disappeared this morning," Jean sighed. "The Professor and I were just trying to-- reach him. He didn't appreciate it." 

Rachel shook her head. "I'm not surprised," she murmured. "I had hoped Charles would leave well enough alone..."

"Now that you're here," Jean replied tiredly, "I assume that some of this mystery can get explained? It's not like Sam to lie, you know."

"I know," the younger woman replied. "I forced him into it. But you have to understand, I didn't want to tip my hand. I thought it was better to stay out of sight for as long as I could. Now, I'm beginning to think that if I hadn't, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"You couldn't have known. I just hope that we can all stop ly--" She stopped short as a shouts rang through the hallways, and closed her eyes briefly. "This day just keeps getting better," she murmured. 

"What--oh," Rachel's eyes widened slightly as she lightly scanned the building around them. "I take it Domino just found out."

"I suppose so. Sam said she was sleeping. I guess she woke up. I'd better go check on Charles. You might as well come with. I get the feeling we're going to end up in another meeting before the day is over."

----

"The Sisterhood was trying to set him up. Nathan never did the things he was being accused of. I suspect it was easier to quietly let the issue vanish than it would have been to admit that they'd been wrong. Who would want to admit to how close the Sisterhood had come to succeeding? I ended up transferring schools, and assumed that Nathan would take care of himself. I can really only think of one reason why he would have done what he did afterward."

Scott frowned. This was not the kind of reunion he would have anticipated, though a part of him had always believed he'd see Rachel again. Given their family, it seemed inevitable. He would have preferred it to be under less dire circumstances. "And that would be the big mystery everyone has been skirting around for weeks now." He glanced at Jean, who looked back at him with worried green eyes. Rachel, he noticed, was staring unwaveringly at Charles.

Sam cleared his throat. He'd sat silently through the previous exchanges, feeling out of place in what had become, essentially, a family meeting. Only his personal interest in Cable's well being held him there. Domino was leaning rigidly against the wall, arms folded across her chest, face impassive as stone. If anything that had been said impacted her, she didn't show it. "We didn't want ta act on suspicion," he said. "Ah think it's 'bout time we got down to the truth."

"Charles?" Rachel asked calmly, "do you have any idea _why_ Nathan may have decided to do what he did?"

That, Sam decided, was the Mother Askani in her speaking. No one else would have dared use that faintly condescending tone. Rachel was showing her hand at last. 

"If you're implying that I somehow tampered with--"

"I'm not implying," she said. "I'm asking."

"Very well." He steepled his fingers, and paused a moment to organize his thoughts. "I do admit that while Nathan was acting as a member of the X-Men in Scott's absence, I encouraged him to think about pursuing certain paths which I felt would be beneficial to our work. It was a suggestion, nothing more. I doubt very much that I could have forced a telepathic command on Nathan, even if that had been my intention. He has never been easy to read, and I am sure he would have detected such an action in any event." He dropped his hands and passed his eyes around the room. Jean was watching him with concerned eyes. Sam's face held a hint of anger, while Rachel met his eyes impassively. Domino was not watching any of them, her gaze fixed seemingly elsewhere. His jaw ached in remembrance of their earlier confrontation. He looked to Scott last, and his first student's face was utterly unreadable.  
"I knew that time for the X-Men's anonymity was coming to an end," he continued. "In addition, I had become aware of a certain lack of direction on Nathan's part. In the past, his actions have tended to be... counterproductive to our own. It was my hope that I could give him purpose while also filling a need created by the necessity of discontinuing involvement in certain activities in order to maintain a positive standing in the public eye."

"Is that why you wouldn't let us investigate when his safehouse was destroyed?" Jean spoke up. "When you implied that you felt _Nathan_ was responsible for those deaths?"

"At the time, I had no proof of the Sisterhood's existence," he countered calmly. "I based my decision on the information I had at my disposal."

"And that decision was that Nathan had killed those people, and that we should do nothing?"

He sighed. "I had planned to decide on the appropriate response once I had learned more. That proved to be unnecessary. If," he continued, "you mean to ask if I was hesitant to involve the X-Men in the incident, you're correct. Given what I was planning for the future, I felt it would be unwise of us to openly become entangled in another political situation."

"Why Nathan?" Scott's voice was as emotionless as his face had been. "You were already working to establish the X-Corporation watching stations. Why did you need Nathan as well? Why like this?"

"There was a change in him after your supposed death, Scott. I sensed in him a certain potential for self-destruction that could not be left unchecked. To put it in the starkest of terms... Nathan has been used as a weapon all of his life. Now that Apocalypse has been defeated, he is a weapon without a purpose. That is never a good scenario. In my attempt to guide him on an appropriate path, I had no reason suppose that he would somehow find a way to cure the techno-organic virus and become more dangerous than any of us could have imagined."

"What I don't understand in all of this," Rachel interjected, "is why once you _did_ know of the problem, you chose to _hide_ it. I'm the only other telepath, it seems, who could detect the damage he was doing, and I suspect that's because you didn't know I was back in this time."

"I needed time to decide on a course of action. I did not want to risk the chance that someone else would find him and try to take advantage of his confused state, and I doubt my call for caution would have been heeded had I informed those it concerned."

"Ah'm getting kinda tired of wachin' you just tiptoe around this," Sam replied. "Why not say it like it is? You messed up, so you tried ta keep it under wraps until you could find a way ta fix it. Or maybe you were just hopin' Blaquesmith would get 'round to it first?"

Rachel stood, sensing that things were going to get ugly. "Speaking of Blaquesmith... he's bound to show up eventually--sooner rather than later, I suspect. And when he does, we're just going to have to start this debate all over again. I think maybe we should call it a night. I'm sure it's been a long day for everyone."

There was a murmur of agreement and everyone began departing the room. Scott stepped out into the hall and turned in the direction of the underground hanger before being stopped by his wife's voice.

"Honey?"

He half turned and glanced back at her. He could feel her concern over their rapport, knew the turmoil she was feeling over the situation, and wished he could find some way to ease it. But since his 'return,' things had been confused. He wasn't at all sure what he was doing or feeling anymore, and his distance was hurting her. He just didn't know what to do with it. "I'm going to go run a diagnostic on the blackbird. It's overdue for maintenance and... I just need time to think about all of this, Jean. I'm sorry."

She walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. I understand."

"I know you do," he murmured, kissing her on the forehead. "Sometimes I think you're too patient with me."

A sad smile quivered on her lips. "Never. Things will work out. We're never really beaten, right?"

"Right."

She stepped away again. "I guess I'll go track down Rachel. We have an awful lot of catching up to do."

"Jean--"

"It'll be okay, Scott. With time."

He nodded, then turned and continued on his way.

----

"Well, that was informative," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. He glanced back at Dom, who still stood against the wall. 

"What did you expect?" she murmured. "That he was going to break down and admit that he's fucked everyone over? He's always got his reasons, Sam, you know that."

"So you're gonna give in?" He shot back. "Just like that?"

"No!" She pushed away from the wall and glared at him. "Goddamnit Sam, I just... shit. Forget it. I'm going to bed." She shook her head, and started to walk off, but Sam stood and caught her wrist. She glared at him. "Let go."

"This isn't helping things. What's goin' on with you, anyway? One minute you're threatenin' to kill people, the next you're given' us all the zombie act."

"I'm tired, Sam. I'm really fucking tired, okay? Just let me go."

He dropped her wrist. "Sorry."

"It's not--" She brushed a hand back through her hair. "Don't worry about it. I just feel like I could sleep for a month solid, and maybe then all of this would just... go away."

"Talked to Hank?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "No."

"Maybe you should think about it."

She shrugged, walked to the door, and gave him a lopsided smile. "Nah, you know me. I'll be right as rain in no time." 

----

"I'm sorry, Jean. I really wanted to let you know I was back... I was so excited to be home, and then, to be told that it was going to be impossible... There was just too much to deal with." Rachel sat at one end of the sofa in the living room, where she and Jean had retreated to after the meeting.

Jean nodded to the young woman who, in another place, another lifetime, might have been her daughter. "I understand, Rachel. And I'm so glad that you're back. I'm afraid this is all just a bit much for me to process right now."

"Trust me, I know the feeling," Rachel replied wryly. "It took me awhile to grasp that things just weren't the way I remembered them. Time had passed, I knew that... I just wasn't expecting..."

"It's been that way for all of us, I think," Jean replied, "and we were here to witness it. A part of me believes that things will get better, and that this is just another rough spot in the road..."

"Are you angry with him?"

Jean frowned a little. "With Charles? I'm not entirely sure yet. A part of me knows he really didn't mean any harm. He never does. But this is Nathan, and that is something else entirely. I raised him for all those years in the future. He's my son, and though I don't always agree with what he does in his life, I'll never stop loving him. The part of me that is his mother is absolutely furious at Charles for this."

"He thinks what he's done is justified by the vision of a better future," Rachel replied pensively. "But I don't see how we can ever have real peace if it's bought on the backs others. I don't think micromanaging the present is going to bring him the peace he wants."

"His past mistakes haunt him, I think," Jean sighed. "He worries more than ever that he'll run out of time, and that everything he's worked so hard for is falling apart around him. We've come so far, I don't think he can stand the thought of not attaining that final goal."

"That's not really an excuse, Jean."

"I know that. I wasn't trying to use it as one. But as much as I _wish_ this were something that Scott and I could come to a decision over on our own, it's just not. There is too much at stake here, and it doesn't affect just us."

"How is Scott handling all of this?" Rachel asked quietly. "He was a little distant all evening."

"Not well. When it comes to Nathan, he never does. He carries around so much guilt... they're never going to see eye to eye, and I know he realizes that, but every time something happens he ends up taking so much of the blame onto himself." She rubbed at her temple tiredly. "He hasn't been quite the same since he came back," she admitted. "I don't think this added strain is helping."

"Well, I can't imagine having Apocalypse trying to take over his body was an enjoyable experience," Rachel replied wryly.

"I wish I knew, frankly. He hasn't been willing to share much with me. Afraid to, I guess. He's been very withdrawn. It... worries me."

Rachel slid over and tentatively offered a hug. "I'm sure it will work out."

----

"Why do you make this sound like we're trying' ta outwit Magneto or something, instead of goin' after one of our own?"

It was mid-day, and crowded in Xavier's study. Tensions had been running at a peak around the mansion in the two weeks since Sam had arrived unannounced, but things had gotten noticeably more strained with Blaquesmith's arrival that morning. He'd immediately insisted on speaking to Xavier alone, and that conversation had lasted far too long for Sam's liking. Now everyone involved were either standing or sitting around Charles's large desk, expressions ranging from passivity to outrage as they discussed what course of action to take. The polite talk had dissolved at this point--Domino had apparently reached her limit for diplomacy, and everyone was trying to work around her outbursts.

"Sam, I realize that Nathan has been like a father to you. I've no wish to undermine that bond. But the person we are dealing with now is _clearly_ not the man you know. I'm afraid that treating him as a hostile force is the only option left to us."

"Uh-uh. No way in _hell_. Nathan is _not_ some fucking workhorse you can just shoot in the head because he's outlived his usefulness!"

"Dom..."

She brushed away the hand that rested on her shoulder. "No. Damnit, Sam. Nathan has had people using him as a puppet his entire life. I'm not going to just sit here quietly while people try to decide his fate for him!"

Xavier cleared his throat. "If I might suggest, perhaps you haven't the most impartial perspective on this?"

"Damn right I don't," she snapped. "I actually give a fuck. Yeah, I think you could go out there, hunt him down, and bring him back. Sure, you could control him. But I will put a bullet through his head myself before I let you turn him into some pathetic little yes-man. Fuck, have _any_ of you stopped to consider that half the problem _now_ might be because he never really got to have a life of his own?"

"Domino, I don't think anyone is suggesting we brainwash Nathan," Rachel interjected. 

"No, you already did that for them, didn't you?"

"Dom!" Sam's hand was back on her shoulder, grip more firm this time. "That was out of line."

"Perhaps it would be best if you removed yourself from this discussion for the time being? Until you're better... restrained."

Dom glared. "Throwing me out?"

Xavier met her gaze calmly. "Merely a suggestion."

"Fine. You know what? Fuck you. I don't _need_ this bullshit. Do whatever the hell you want. I hope you get your damned heads handed to you."

She turned on her heel, stalking out of the room. Sam watched her go, momentarily torn between going after her and staying behind. Finally, he turned back to the assembled group. Dom could use the time to cool off, and at least this way, they'd still know what was going on. Maybe it was paranoia, but he didn't want to leave this crowd to talk behind closed doors.

----

"So?"

"Right to the point, huh?" Sam asked as he stepped into the room. Domino was sitting on the bed, folding clothes and placing them in a black duffel. She stopped long enough to shrug, then continued her task. "Basically, they're playing a waiting game, for now. Jean and Scott fought hard for time. Ah don't think they're really happy with any of this. Rachel sorta threw in the towel--she wants ta find him, but on her terms, while Xavier and Blaquesmith think they got all the answers. Things got kinda ugly after you left--turns out Rachel...er, Mother Askani, actually, gave Blaquesmith orders ta 'take care' of Cable if this sorta thing ever happened."

"Just peachy," she muttered. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Yeah, me either," he sighed. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Packing. Scott offered to take me back to Hong Kong earlier today."

"Your idea or his?" Sam asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Mutual decision. I can't deal with this right now--knew things weren't going to get any better with Blaquesmith on the scene... I know you'll take care of things."

"Ah'd like to think Scott an' Jean'll help make sure whatever happens is the right thing."

"Maybe. But I wonder that they can't see how much Charles controls them."

"They trust him."

"Trust can be misplaced."

"Ah think everyone's startin' ta realize that. So you've still got a job, huh?"

"He thinks I'm a little crazy," she shrugged. "He thought it when he hired me. As long as I'm not actually in his face..." She trailed off. "I have to wonder now, though."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "About?"

"The men I had to shake getting to Kenya. I assumed they were Wisdom's. But... just why the hell did Xavier hire me anyway?"

"You were good for the job?"

"Or he wanted to keep an eye on me."

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. I'm going back there anyway." She zipped her bag shut. "I'd better go."

"Ah'll keep in touch. Take it easy, alright?"

She smiled wanly. "I'll try."


	5. Act V

**Dunsinane  
Act V**  
by Timesprite

Through the bedroom door, Domino could hear the answering machine down on the conference table switch on. She didn't have a private line here--no one called, anyway.

"Dom? This is Sam... Ah don't know if you're just out when Ah call, or if maybe ya just don't wanna talk at all, but Ah think we should. Call me back? You got the number."

The machine switched off again and she rolled over, dragging the covers around her shoulders. She shouldn't keep ignoring it, but she had to. She wanted to let go and forget about all of it. Laying in the dark, it seemed as if she could distance herself from the pain of being dragged back into the remains of her dead life. The dark could sooth the sting from all those emotions and conflicts being dragged to the surface, and she could pretend that this was where she wanted to be. The darkness would fold the lies into itself, absorb them and weave them into a false reality for her, thick and soft as velvet. In the dark she could pretend that wherever Nathan was--and that raving lunatic they'd met in the desert _hadn't_ been Nathan--he was better off. Maybe _he_ was finally at peace. But she couldn't forget. Every time she closed her eyes she caught that freeze-frame image--that look of utter confusion, vulnerability, and fear that had been on his face the instant before everything had gone to hell. It wouldn't let her go, and her strength was all used up.  
There was so much smoke in the room she could see it, hanging in a layer near the ceiling, illuminated faintly by the streetlights that managed to reach the windows from below. She'd long since disconnected the smoke alarm. It was her fucking bedroom, and if she wanted to smoke in it, she would. Anything worth doing was worth doing well, and that included poisoning oneself. Hank would be disgusted with her. Her cigarette crumbled down to the filter and she stretched to cram the butt into an empty bottle. Something in her chest screamed in protest, but she bit her lip and ignored it. The act of breathing in and of itself was painful; this was insignificant. 

She wanted to hate Nathan. The bastard couldn't have just died. She thought she could survive, if he were dead. She'd be able to get past it, and then she could leave it behind for good. She wouldn't be obligated to keep up all these bullshit connections that existed just because they'd been partners for twenty years. But he hadn't. He'd lost his mind instead. She wrapped the covers tightly around herself and closed her eyes to dreams of yesterday.

----

The sound was so slight that at first, Domino thought she'd imagined it. A noise following her out of the slithering terror of her nightmares. Her hand rested instinctively on the weapon beneath her pillow as she held her breath and strained to hear around her. She was torn between the urge to check the rest of the building and the one that told her to just close her eyes again when her gaze caught on a patch of darkness that seemed denser than that around it, somehow. She gripped her gun firmly, then inhaled sharply as the darkness stepped out of the full shadow of the armoire. She was dreaming this.

She had the gun out and aimed at him without a conscious thought. "Nathan," she breathed.

He stepped forward again, the light from the window hitting him more fully this time, and something strange crossed his face as he saw the gun in her hand. "Dom..." 

She swallowed hard. He was between her and the door. No way out, then. There was nothing but hard pavement below the window. She kept the gun trained on him, clinging white-knuckled to keep her hand from shaking. She'd _never_ been afraid of him, never, but now... Now it was unlikely the gun would do her any good. "You shouldn't have come here," she said, surprised at how calm she sounded. "Xavier's had people keeping an eye on me."

"They didn't see me." The look on his face was at once endearing and frightening. He seemed so confident of himself, but it was a child-like confidence. Then something shifted--he frowned slightly as if something had occurred to him. "It's clean?"

She snorted, feeling vaguely insulted. "Of course it's clean. I did a sweep of the entire place when I came back. There wasn't anything... he's smarter than that." Nathan sat on the edge of the bed and she flinched a little, acutely aware of just how vulnerable--how _exposed_ she was. He could easily hurt her if he wanted to. She wasn't in any shape to put up a fight, though she was trying desperately not to let it show.  
She mentally shook herself. She shouldn't be thinking this, not about him. This was _Nathan..._ but it wasn't. He was saner than he'd been in Egypt, but there was still something fundamentally _wrong_ about him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly, sensing her alarm, though not the full extent of it. "I don't--I wasn't myself. I'm better now--they're quieter. I have them under control."

A lunatic hearing voices. Only these voices were real, not madness. Just maddening. She might have believed him had the look in his eyes not sent shivers along the length of her spine. Her hand ached from gripping the gun so tightly. She released it finally--it was pointless bravado, anyway--flipping the safety back on and tucking it away. She reached for the blankets and drew them around her as if they could provide some sort of defense.

He stood again, pacing the room restlessly. The lack of attention span would have been amusing had it not been so disturbing. "This place is a mess," he muttered almost to himself.

"Nathan."

He looked at her.

"Why are you here?"

He blinked, as if she'd just asked the most obvious question on the planet. "I wanted to see you."

"_Why?_"

"I missed you, Dom." There was something of his normal self in his voice, and it made a long numb part of her ache. "I had to make sure you were okay."

She shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"Not if you keep doing this." He gestured to the room around them.

"You are _not_ going to lecture me." Out of his mind, and he was still nagging her about her bad habits.

He shook his head, then gave her an earnest look. "Why are you so sad?"

"I'm _not_," she replied brushing hair back from her face.

"You are. You wouldn't live like this, otherwise."

"What about you?" She countered, stubbornly refusing to continue that line of discussion.

"Me? I'm great." He gave her a lop-sided grin. "I just need more... control."

"You're _not_ fine, Nathan," she growled. "Xavier played with your head... Blaquesmith thinks you need to be 'dealt' with. You _mind wiped_ eighty-three people in Brazil! That is not _great_!"

He grimaced. "I didn't want to do that. That's why I need more control. I just have to adjust." He walked over and held out his left hand to her. "Look at that. It's dissolving."

And it was. Patches of the T-O had vanished, leaving behind a perfectly normal hand. Not T-O masquerading as skin, or a telepathic trick, but real flesh and blood. She reached out tentatively and put her hand in his. Surprisingly soft--of course, it had been protected from decades of rough work. "That's wonderful, Nate." He closed his fingers around her hand. Not tightly, but she pulled away a little anyway. The look on his face was anguish. She turned away. 

"Dom, please..." His hand was on her shoulder, surprisingly cool through the thin cotton of her tee-shirt. "You're warm," he commented, and his hand touched her face this time. She closed her eyes.

"I'm fine," she countered automatically. "I'm just tired," she added, as if that explained it. The contact of his skin on hers had her trembling slightly.

"You should sleep."

_'I was, until __someone_ decided to show up unannounced,' she thought. Dimly, she realized he could probably hear every thought. "What about you?" She asked aloud.

"I don't sleep much anymore," he murmured distractedly. The strange distance in his voice and in his eyes was telling her not to fall asleep with him in the building. But she was exhausted, and she couldn't _make_ him go. "You're staying, then?"

"For now. I don't think we should stay here long."

We. There was no 'we,' she thought. There was nothing here but a vague sense of panic and trepidation. He dropped his hand to his side. "I'm not going to hurt you."

No, he wouldn't. But there was no promise that he'd be the man she woke to, either, and that terrified her. "I know," she replied quietly. They were circling each other, unsure of the next move or how it would be received; the situation strained and fragile. It wouldn't work. They would slam themselves into the holes in each others' hearts they used to occupy, but there were no soft edges this time. They were cutting each other to pieces, and couldn't stop. 

His hand was on her shoulder again. "It's all right." A lie. It wasn't; she was shaking.

He wanted to touch her. Not like this, not in the detached way his hand rested on her shoulder, but really hold her. A part of him needed to feel connected to her, a piece apart from the him that was drowning in chaos, or the instinct that was screaming that he had to keep moving, there was danger... No, this part knew how soft she would be under his hand, how warm, if he folded her in against his chest. It didn't care that she looked at him with the eyes of a cornered animal, because he could fix her. He knew he could. But not yet. He needed to get her out of here first. His mind raced through the plan it'd formed, and he smiled to himself. He'd known, of course, that they'd be looking for him. Xavier, his sister, Blaquesmith. He also knew that they wouldn't be able to find him. He'd been working on that, making himself invisible to their telepathy. And he could do it, too... so long as his concentration didn't slip. That was the constant threat--that all those billions of minds pressing on the other side of the wall he'd built up while unconscious would become too much, and break it all down before he could plug the leaks. Even now, shielded as he was, he could hear them, whispering from across the globe. All those lives, fascinating and terrifying at the same time.  
He took his hand from Domino's shoulder. He could hide her as well, but he wasn't sure she'd be willing to pay the price. Wasn't sure he could _avoid_ it, either. He could feel the ends of their broken psilink tugging, what was torn apart trying desperately to become whole again. Bonded, he thought he could hide her safely. His telepathy was still chancy--he could still hurt people--but he felt instinctively that his powers wouldn't let him hurt himself. And harming Domino through the link would do just that--backlash on his own mind.

"You should get some sleep," he repeated, stepping away from the bed and walking to the windows. He heard her laying down as he looked out on the lights of Hong Kong strung out below them.

----

"We should go."

Domino shoved the hand from her shoulder and pushed herself upright. She felt like death warmed over, but she wasn't about to let it show. "Go? I don't remember agreeing to go _anywhere_ with you, Nathan."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do you really want to stay here? Safe? Where someone's always got an eye on you? Oath, why did you _take_ this ridiculous job? It's not like you."

"It was someplace to go," she shrugged. "It was a worthwhile cause."

"So you could torment yourself more?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah, well, you're certainly one to be talking about the evils of masochism. Someone needed to do it. Besides, Xavier pays well, and I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands."

"About that... they're okay?"

"Yeah. Always are," she sighed. "Can't keep those kids down for long." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on drawn up knees. "Nathan, how am I supposed to know I can _trust_ you after what happened?"

His shoulders slumped slightly. "How bad was it?"

"I've been hurt worse," she replied with a shrug.

"Dom, please..."

There was a vaguely haunting look in his eyes. He felt guilty about it, which, she supposed, was something. She sat up and lifted the edge of her top, revealing the long surgical scar.

"I--"

"It wasn't your fault." She tugged the fabric down again and cleared her throat, fighting back an urge to cough. "I don't blame you."

"I didn't mean to. I wasn't really--I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't in control."

"But you are now."

"I've had time to practice. It's not going to happen again."

"That's a promise?"

"Yeah.

She frowned. "Where--" she coughed, then cursed under her breath. "Where do you want us to go?"

"You still have that apartment in New York?"

"Assuming the landlord hasn't screwed me over, yeah... But we can't go back there. The little war cabinet in Westchester will be on us in an instant."

"They won't know we're there. And it won't be for long. I just need to do a few things, and then we'll be gone again." A slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "We'll be right under their noses without them realizing it."

Dom sighed again. None of this was resting particularly well with her, but if she went with him, she could at least keep an eye on him. She didn't believe for an instant that he was as in control of things as he claimed to be, but then, caution and a sense of self-preservation had never been her strong suits. A part of her was still angry--angry that she was being dragged back into this mess, angry that life couldn't seem to leave her the hell alone. But she was committed now, for better or worse. "All right."

"Good." He grinned at her like a little boy, and something inside her cringed at the incongruity of that look. "Pack a bag. I'll take care of transportation."

----

"Shit." A strong arm caught her around the waist as she toppled forward, coughing uncontrollably, her head feeling like she'd just taken a spin on an out of control amusement ride. 

"I should have warned you."

"Would--have been nice," she retorted, trying to get her breath. The room around them was dark and cold, looked--even smelt--abandoned. She hadn't used the apartment in awhile, and even then, it was often only a stopover. Nathan was still holding her--one arm around her waist--against his hip. She hung there limply, waiting for her head to stop pounding, wanting to pull away from him and the almost electric current his nearness caused. "I'm never doing that again." She pulled herself free, breaking the connection between them. His expression flickered for a moment at the loss of contact, but she ignored it.

"You won't have to. Blaquesmith might be able to find a way to track me. We go low-tech from here on."

She nodded, dropping herself into a kitchen chair. "Where are we going to go?"

"I have someplace in mind." He set down the bags he'd been holding in his other hand. "I needed to take care of a few things here, first."

"Blaquesmith again?"

"He equipped most of the safehouses," he replied. "We can't use them, he'd be expecting that. But I want to get a few things. ...and see if I can't hamper things a bit."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, and rested her head on the tabletop. There was a thin layer of dust between her skin and the wood. "Christ... how can you stand doing that?" There was the soft sound of his feet on the floor and then his fingers were sliding through her hair softly.

"You're sick."

"I--" She wanted to deny it. Weakness was something you never showed; she'd learned that lesson hard and fast at fifteen, and it had never left. She wanted to argue with him, to fight him just to prove her point.

"It's okay. Go sleep. I have things to do." His lips pressed against the crown of her head. 

He was stealing contact when she was too tired to fight him. It wasn't worth it, anyway. Not at this point in time. She'd have to fight the urge to break his arm if he tried it again, though. Just on principle. She hadn't agreed to come with him just so he could paw at her whenever the mood struck him. She stood up, shoving her hair out of her face, and headed in the direction of the small bedroom. "Try not to get anyone killed, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she heard him murmur before she pulled the door closed behind her. There was nothing but a sheet and two shapeless pillows on the bed, but there was a comforter sitting on the top shelf of the closet. Kicking off her shoes and sliding off her jeans, she wrapped the blanket around herself and turned off the overhead light before lying down.  
When she opened her eyes again hours later, it was to the sensation of another body on the mattress beside her. "Who invited you?" She muttered, head still half-buried in the pillow. Her headache was gone, at least.

"I'm behaving myself," Nathan rumbled in reply. He was stretched out next to her, still fully clothed, his head pillowed on his hands. She could smell a faint trace of smoke on him and wondered just what 'taking care of things' had entailed. "There are stars on your ceiling," he commented after a pause.

"Yeah."

"They weren't here the last time."

"I don't remember giving you much opportunity to stare at the ceiling the last time we were here together," she replied wryly.

He studied the ceiling a moment longer. There were a few constellations mapped out haphazardly, probably from memory, and without any attention to their actual placement in the sky. They gave off a faint green light that made his eyes play tricks. "Why'd you put them up?"

He felt her shrug beside him. "I was bored, lonely, it was something to look at. I end up staring at ceilings a lot."

"Name them?"

"What?"

"Did you name them?"

"They already have names."

"Doesn't mean you can't give them new ones."

Domino sighed and propped herself up on one elbow to look over at him. "What were you up to, Nathan?"

"Trouble."

"I gathered that much."

"I didn't kill anyone, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't."

He nodded, barely perceptible in the dark. "I just made sure he'll have trouble finding us."

"Meaning you just destroyed his most recent base of operations."

"I'm sure he has backups of all the systems. He's not careless. I needed some equipment. What I didn't need, I got rid of. No point in letting him have access to it."

"You know he thinks it's his duty to take care of you."

He nodded again. "I had a feeling..."

"Rachel--the other Rachel--bound him to it."

"I'm not surprised."

"This doesn't make you angry?"

"I was always... a weapon to them." He turned his head to look at her. "I got used to it, after awhile. I'm not stupid. I would have done the same thing, in their place. So would you."

"_We_ wouldn't use people like that in the first place, Nathan."

"Maybe. Impossible to say." He went back to staring at the stars. "But I'm tired of being used, Dom. How about you?" 

----

Domino woke, blinking, winter sun hitting her eyes through battered aluminum blinds and streaking across the bedroom. It was still cold, but she had the blanket around her, and for the first time in ages, it seemed, the iron bands in her chest had loosened just a bit. Well, Nathan _had_ broken her pattern of self neglect, and the time change from Hong Kong to New York had granted her a full extra night's sleep. Her body had probably seized the chance to try and repair itself while it could. It was young and vibrant again, after all, she thought wryly. Too bad the rest of her didn't feel that way. Nathan stepped in as she continued to lay there in a half-waking daze, causing her to wonder if he'd been waiting for her to wake. He walked over silently and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out a cautious hand to touch her face.

"No fever."

"I feel better," she replied, pulling away from him. "All that sleep." She unwound herself from the blanket and found her bag. She stood there, awkwardly, clothes in hand, uneasy suddenly because she didn't want to undress in front of him. It was completely pointless, verging on ridiculous, but after a moment Nathan seemed to sense her hesitation, stood, and brushed a chaste kiss across her forehead before leaving the room.  
He was sitting at the ramshackle kitchen table, reading a newspaper he must have acquired while she was still asleep when she emerged from the bedroom in jeans and an old sweater, hair secured in a careless ponytail. "Make the news?" She asked, sitting across from him.

He grinned in a faintly manic way, flipping the page towards her. "Street gangs," he replied, as if it were the most amusing thing he'd heard in ages.

"Well, that's better than the cops having the APB out on a six and a half foot tall mutant terrorist," she replied dryly. "We getting out of here, then?"

"I think... after breakfast."

"We can get breakfast on the way to wherever the hell we're going, Nathan."

He shook his head. "I want to buy you breakfast. A nice breakfast."

"That's great, Nathan," she sighed, "but it's also a really _bad_ idea. They're going to be looking for us."

"They can't find me, Dom." An edge of seriousness entered his voice again, grounding him. "And they don't even know you're with me, yet. They'll figure it out eventually, but not yet." He reached for her hand, and she let him take it reluctantly. "I want to buy you breakfast," he continued with a half-smile. "It's been years." 

----

The place he'd chosen was small, tidy, and half-empty mid-morning on a Wednesday. Domino cut her French toast into squares and poked at it pensively--she was only mildly hungry, but Nathan had insisted she order an actual breakfast. He seemed unusually impulsive that morning. It might have worried her had she not been so concerned already.

"I still think this is crazy."

"Pretend it's a vacation. You could use a vacation, couldn't you?"

"I feel like I've _been_ on vacation for years now."

"Couldn't be. You'd look better if you had."

"Bastard."

He frowned. "You... didn't ever really come back, did you? After... you left. Was it that bad?"

She shrugged. "I guess, maybe. I--" She stopped, whatever confession that might have been on her lips lost, her mind folding reflexively in on itself protectively. She shook her head. "So what's the plan, Nathan?"

He set down his fork. "We're driving to Montreal. We'll fly back to Hong Kong... you can pick up anything you want to, make them think you're still in the area, and then we're going someplace Blaquesmith doesn't know about."

She rested her head on her hand. "Do I get to know where this 'someplace' is?"

"Australia. I'll pack the sun block."

"You just want to help me put it _on_," she retorted, and for an instant, things seemed almost normal. "Seriously, though, _that's_ the plan?"

"Problem?"

"Well, I thought... hell, Nate. I thought maybe you'd want to _deal_ with this instead of hide from it."

His face darkened. "They've made up their minds, Dom. They all think they know what's best, won't be happy until I'm toeing that line again, no matter what that takes."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think? I mean, I know they're all clamoring to have their say, but they still _care_."

"Rachel, maybe. Scott and Jean... but Blaquesmith? Xavier? They still think this is about power, and the chance to _control_ it. Free will doesn't factor into it."

"Nate, you don't..."

"I do. You know it, too. Oh, I don't doubt that they genuinely want to help me, but it would be on _their_ terms. And I'm so tired of _owing_ people things, Dom. I thought I owed the whole flonqing world my life. All I want now is to be left alone."

"And for that, you need me?"

He tipped his head and smiled slightly. "I've always needed you, Dom. You make the world make sense again."

She wanted to scream in frustration. He was jumping from disturbingly distracted to downright menacing at the drop of a hat, and now he was using the tone he'd always taken when he needed to worm his way back into her good graces for some reason. At this point she couldn't tell if he was just insane or if he was manipulating her. "Just what the hell are you expecting out of me, Nate?" She snapped, suddenly irritated with him. It was the puppy-dog look... had to be. If she didn't get pissed with him, she'd end up trusting him far more than she should.

The playful look evaporated from his face. "Nothing. You don't have to do anything, Dom. I just thought you could use some time away."

"With you," she replied tersely.

He shrugged. "With someone. You don't do well on your own--and don't. You want to argue that, but don't. Not wanting to be alone isn't a bad thing. It doesn't make you dependent."

"Who says I _don't_ want to be alone?" She snapped, voice pitched low enough that the argument wouldn't catch the attention of other diners. 

"You do... you don't say it but..." He ran a hand back through his hair, looking tired suddenly. "Every inch of you is screaming that you need _something_, Dom. I just want to be here until you decide what it is. Is that so bad?"

"I guess we'll see, won't we?"

----

After breakfast the rented car was packed with the few things she'd brought with her and the equipment Nathan had liberated the night before. He took the wheel, and Domino settled into the passenger seat, forehead against the glass, watching the landscape slip from city to winter countryside as they drove steadily north. There was a hollowness in her echoed by the stark landscape outside. The situation felt somehow fitting given the paths life had chosen to lead them down in the past few years. The part of her that had once secretly hoped they would all come out of it relatively unscathed in the end was long dead, and everything seemed a matter of going through the motions as the world wound slowly to its conclusion.   
She glanced at Nathan, his face impassive as he drove, and wished she could find something to say to him. Something untainted by the vitriol she couldn't help but feel towards him. Not that anything that had happened was his fault--if he were guilty of not listening to her, she was just as guilty of being unintelligible. She'd decided, somewhere along the way, that she could only stay if he asked her to. The old pattern had ingrained itself, had become routine, and she couldn't fathom reversing it. Couldn't stand the thought that he might think her weak or demanding. He'd had his own demons to fight as well, and she'd been too selfish, hurt, and confused to care.

So now he'd asked, and she'd come with him again. Because it was what he wanted, because it had been what she'd been waiting for. It wasn't about _them_ anymore, really, they were both too far from the remains of that relationship to try and sort it all out now. It was about habit, more than anything else, and he probably did need her on some level. That was okay--it was a role she was used to, and one that didn't require much thinking on her part. It gave her somewhere to go, and a purpose, as superfluous as it might really be. She needed that, because without it, she was afraid she'd end up examining her actions over the last few years and find them to be borderline suicidal, which wasn't something she was ready or capable of owning up to.

They stopped to eat halfway through the drive, more out of habit than anything--she wasn't hungry and Nathan didn't need the break. Neither of them had really spoken since breakfast. "So you really want to do this--just disappear?" She was picking at her French fries absently, staring out the window at the slushy parking lot.

"Why not? It seemed to work for you."

"Extenuating circumstances," she muttered in reply.

"Do you have some better idea, Dom? Should we maybe just show up on their doorstep? You were _there_, tell me... you think that's a good idea?"

"No," she hissed. "I just don't think--look, forget it. This is your game. We'll do it your way. I just hope you're right, and that you've got this all as under control as you say you do."

He frowned at her. "Dom, I'm doing the best I can here. I'm trying to..." He stopped and ran a hand over his face. "I built this safe house because it's quiet. Isolated. It'll give me a chance to refine what I've been learning. Finish adjusting. It won't be forever. I just need time."

"You keep coming up with all these qualifiers," she replied. "What's it going to be, Nathan?"

"Are you going to trust me or not?"

"I don't _know_, Nate. Don't ask me that."

"Fine." He shook his head. "We should get going, anyway."

They settled back into their accustomed positions, and the world resumed its steady flow beyond her window. She could have stayed behind. They were in the middle of nowhere, but someone could have come for her. That would have been the smart thing to do; the safe thing. But safe had never appealed to her and she'd already spent half her life reacting on instinct rather than intellect. It could be a beginning as easily as it could an ending, and despite everything, the unease, the anger, she wanted things to work out. Nathan deserved that much, at least.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you." Nathan's voice rose out of the silence suddenly, like a tidal wave, startling her out of her thoughts.

"I yelled first," she replied. "I'm just being a bitch here, sorry."

He glanced at her, a hint of amusement on his face. "That's anything new?"

She snorted. "Bastard."

"That's not true, and you know it." They lapsed into silence, miles passing before he continued. "Is this the only kind of conversation we can have?"

"What should we talk about?" She asked sullenly, ire rising again. "The weather, maybe? Or should we trade stock tips?"

"You don't like the stock market," he replied easily. "Not your kind of gamble. How long has it been, Dom? Two years?"

"Something like that."

"And we don't have a single thing to say to each other, after all that time?"

"Well," she hunched a little in her seat, defensive. "I suppose. You can go first, then." 

"What did they do to you, Dom? I remember you standing there, shoving me away. You said they did something... I don't even know who 'they' are."

Something crumpled in her expression, and for a long moment, he doubted she would respond at all. "You know. I told you," she answered bitterly. "You just weren't interested in listening. What happened to _you?_"

He smiled thinly at her anger. "I won, didn't you hear?" He replied sardonically. "Big hero."

"You saved your father," she countered. "That's a victory, at least."

His expression darkened as he glanced at her. "Maybe. I'm not sure how much there was left to save. After all that time--" He stopped, turning his eyes back to the road. "Living with an evil like that can change a person."

"I know," she replied tersely. "Remember?"

"You don't know how much I want to erase all that. Stop it from ever happening."

"Could you?"

"Maybe. But doing that won't change now. Won't change us."

She turned back to her own window. "That doesn't make sense."

"It does. I...could change my future, because there was time... and a simple solution." There was irony in his voice. "I only had to kill one man for a completely different reality to precipitate out over two thousand years. Fixing us could never be that simple."

"I wouldn't want you to."

----

"We leave tomorrow morning."

Nathan stood inside the doorway of their Montreal hotel room, watching as she dried her hair. He had left to make arrangements, and she'd stayed behind, standing in the shower, water hitting her full force--hoping it would make her feel something other than a creeping apathy for their current situation--until the scalding stream reddened her skin and rinsed a little of the tension from her shoulders. 

"And you've got everything together?" She asked, dropping the towel to the floor.

"Passports, everything. We've done this a thousand times. It's all set."

She nodded once, eyes shadowed with some inward thought.

Her legs were at angles beneath her, thighs covered by the tails of the worn out dress shirt she wore, knees exposed. He couldn't help but watch her. It might have been his shirt, pilfered in the days before their relationship had been torn in two, back when things had been alarmingly close to 'good.' 

"Look, Nate..." She started, then trailed off as she caught him staring. He turned his head away slightly, but it was too late. She glared at him, something fierce broken loose behind her eyes. "You wanna fuck me, Nate? Is that it?" Her voice dripped venom. "Well, knock yourself out. I don't care."

Her words slapped him across the face, left him reeling for a moment. Broken, he thought. She always had been, but fractures healed with time and so had she... he had, as well, though the memories seemed distant and fleeting, and he had to tell himself again that he wasn't losing his mind. The confused haze lifted and she was kneeling now in front of him, arms at her sides until she reached up for him, hand pressing on the back of his neck like iron, something he couldn't escape. He lurched forward and felt her lips press against his, an angry, sharp kiss. She couldn't have been more dangerous had she held a gun to his head. "Dom..."

"You said you missed me."

"I did." He put his hand to the side of her face and held it there, eyes closed. "I tried to find you... for a long time. You didn't want to be found."

"No." She pulled away from his hand, and he let it fall. She was angry, but not specifically angry, not angry at _him_. The emotion was just there radiating from her in waves that pummeled his defenses. She was still so close that he could almost feel her heartbeat pulsing through the space between them. He was suddenly aware how simple it would be to stop it. She'd be dead before she realized what had happened. Something inside him twisted painfully at the thought, and the darkness went skittering off to the corner of his mind as the rest of him protested. He could feel it brooding there malignantly. He was aware of her pulling away--even with his eyes closed, he could tell she'd moved to the far end of the bed. He sighed inwardly and opened his eyes.

Dom was leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched before her, crossed at the ankle. Her hands rested lightly on the bedspread.

"I shouldn't have asked you to do this," he said.

"I know," she replied, "but it's too late now." She closed her eyes, and when they opened again, the anger was gone. She was Dom again, and the monster that bubbled darkly between her thoughts had quieted. She tipped her head slightly and looked at him. "Don't you at least want to lay down? Forget sleep, that would be hypocritical of me... but when was the last time you even rested? I don't believe you're not tired."

He _was_ tired, and his shoulders slumped with the sudden weight of it. He hadn't slept--really slept--since he'd slipped away from Xavier's. Bodysliding took a lot of energy, even for him, but paranoia kept him from rest. His chin swung downward in a defeated sort of nod, and Dom shifted over slightly, making room for him to stretch out on the bed. He could feel the warmth of her next to him, and her fingers lightly brushed through his hair, causing a shiver to run through him once before the sensation became a soothing one. He could feel the tugging of the psilink again, and knew he had to do something about it, but his eyelids felt weighted, and his body was forcing his mind to gear down in a way he had no control over. The feeling of Dom's fingers grew more and more distant as he felt himself drifting away.  
He opened his eyes some time later, aware that he must have slept without remembering anything--no dreams, no siren call of the astral plane or the gentle tugging of the time stream, just the soft pressure of darkness and the comforting, quiet hum of humanity that let him know was not alone. Dom stood out, a bright spot against the static, sleeping uneasily beside him. She looked impossibly exposed lying there, and he glanced around for a blanket to cover her. He noticed, not for the first time, that her face was too young. It was more pronounced now, while she slept, dragging him back through time to the first years they'd known each other. It made him feel that she was something he could never, in good conscience, touch again. It should have been easy--they had been apart a long time, not long enough to forget, but long enough that the impulses should have been buried. But they weren't. There was too much violence in her, though, too much anger, and that gave him the push he needed to keep away from her. He knew he was a fool, he shouldn't have gone to her--asked her to accompany him--if he didn't want to deal with all the emotional turmoil it was bound to include, but it was just one more thing piled on a growing and increasingly unstable mountain of burdens. 

He seated himself in one of the chairs near the window. There was a tightness in the pit of his stomach, tension from knowing that he was only a half step ahead of disaster, despite the confidence he tried to project. He could only run so long--he just hoped it would be long enough. Time seemed to be something unbearably palpable, and he realized just how precious little he had of it. "Stab their eyes," he muttered under his breath. If only he could tell them--his parents, Xavier, Blaquesmith--how much worse they were making things. He was trying his best not to let his desperation show, but Dom felt it. He could tell by her actions, by her moods. They were feeding off each other in some sort of sick cycle and he was trying like hell to get a hold of it so he could stop it. Outside the window, the sky grayed, then brightened as cold winter sunlight spilled across the sky.

Finally, he got up and went to wake Dom. It was time for them to get moving again.

----

Jean Grey-Summers slid a hand through her hair, and bit back the very juvenile urge to scream in frustration. A part of her wondered when the X-Men had started suspending action in favor of an endless string of bureaucratic meetings. "I suppose I don't see the point in debating this again," she spoke up, reminding herself to keep her irritation in check. She felt as if she were wasting her time--that she and Scott should be out looking for Nathan rather than trying to vie for control. "Haven't we all spent enough time arguing?" They'd been going around in circles for ages it seemed, and no one seemed any closer to moving towards a compromise. And each day, she knew, Nathan was slipping further and further from what help they could offer.

"Dayspring saw fit to destroy my headquarters. I should think that sends a clear message of his intentions."

"Does it?" Scott spoke up. "He's being hunted, and he knows that _you_ are most likely one to facilitate his... discovery, Blaquesmith. It's strong tactical planning to take out points of weakness like that. You said he took some equipment, and destroyed everything else. I would have done the same in his position."

"That does not negate the fact that this is very obviously an aggressive act, Scott. No one was harmed this time, but he has harmed others before, though unintentionally, and he may do it again. Is that a risk you're willing to accept?"

"Of _course_ not, Professor. But I don't like this constant reference to Nathan as some loose cannon out there that needs to be destroyed! If he is a threat to others, then we only have ourselves to blame. We have no right to act as if this was all of his own volition, when we know full well now that it _wasn't_."

"Scott, if you have a quarrel with me, I suggest we discuss it later, in private. For now, it would be best if we stuck to the matter at hand. If there is anything that the destruction of this base has emphasized, it is that Nathan has made himself, for all intents and purposes, invisible to our methods of detection. I had hoped that Blaquesmith might be able to aid us in finding some way to trace his bodyslide activity, but it seems our luck has run out in that department."

"I'm afraid Nathan must have predicted I might be able to get a fix on the signature--it's a rather unique frequency. There was one hit, presumably when he entered New York, but my equipment wasn't yet calibrated specifically enough to trace before the facility was destroyed. I've rebuilt what I could with other resources, but it has not repeated. I believe he's realized it may be the only way of tracking him that exists."

Scott frowned. "Then we need to go low-tech." He glanced at Xavier. "You have a network in place already. Can we divert some of the manpower? Cover at least major airports? He could telepathically mask his physical appearance as well, but if we're determined to track him down, I don't see any better options open to us." 

"Certainly some resources can be diverted to this endeavor. However, I do not want to risk exposing these people, Scott. Their work for me--for us all--depends on their anonymity. This will be strictly observational. If Cable is spotted, I will have them inform us so we can respond immediately. I will not place them in harm's way."

"Of course not," Scott replied dryly. "I want to get the observers in place--perhaps Blaquesmith can provide us with the most likely routes Nathan could use, and we'll continue monitoring for any indication that he's bodysliding again. We should also keep an eye on the news in case something shows up there," he replied wearily. "Cannonball and Domino tracked him through news reports the last time. I can only hope that we won't have to." He rubbed a hand across his forehead, then let it drop absently to his side. "Dismissed."

Outside the conference room, Jean caught her husband by the arm. "Are you all right?"

"I..." He clenched his jaw, then continued. "No, I'm not. I'm just so _tired_ of this..."

"What happened with the Professor..."

Scott shook his head. "No, he was right, Jean. That's an issue for private discussion." He sighed. "I see Sam and Rachel have decided we're no longer worth their time."

Jean frowned. "They're not _here_, Scott. Didn't you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair and made a pained face. "Do I want to?"

"Sam was becoming concerned about Domino. Apparently, he's been trying to get in touch with her, but she's not responding at all. Charles told him there'd been no activity from the Hong Kong office since she got back. He and Rachel flew out early this morning to check on her."

"Damnit." He punched the wall, then shook his hand, immediately ashamed by the angry outburst. Jean gave him a concerned look, and put her hand on his shoulder. His head dropped for a moment, before he straightened and pulled away. "I'm sorry Jean. This is all just so frustrating. It's like I've lost complete control of my life. I don't know what's going on anymore." Jean reached for him, and he allowed himself to bury his face in her shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of her hair. "I just want everything to make sense again."


	6. Act VI

**Dunsinane  
Act VI**  
by Timesprite

Afternoon sun shone down on the busy street across from the tall, indifferent façade of the X-Corporation's Hong Kong office. Rachel Summers ran a hand through her hair and sighed at her blond companion. "Let me go with you."

"Ah don't think that's gonna be a good idea, Rachel. Can't ya just tell me if she's there or not, so Ah know if Ah'm gonna need to be deflecting bullets?" It was meant to be a joke, but it came out sounding flat, even to his own ears.

She shook her head. "The building is psi-shielded. Not surprising. I doubt Charles would want other telepaths 'eavesdropping' on his little projects."

Sam sighed and looked up at the glass and steel tower. "Ah s'pose that makes sense."

"And it's why you should let me go with you, Sam. We don't know _what_ you're going to find."

Sam frowned a little, and decided to ignore the darker implications behind her words. "Look, Ah agreed you could come with—if he's around, you might be able t' tell, but Ah wanna talk to her mahself. She's not gonna trust me if you come with, an' if she'd don't, we're not gonna get a thing outta her. _If_ she even knows anything to begin with. Ah'm not convinced she will."

"Sam, she told you she'd keep in touch. It's been two weeks now, and she hasn't so much as returned a single call you've made."

"That's why Ah'm checkin' on her, Rachel. But just 'cause Dom ain't answerin' her phone don't mean she knows anything 'bout where Cable is."

"You can think of another reason for her to totally cut off contact?"

"Lots. Look, when X-Force was still all together, she used ta leave a lot, a few days here, a week. Ta hear Cable tell it, she was always workin,' but sometimes he'd be scowling 'bout it, like she was on vacation—only Dom's vacations amounted to her tryin' to just ignore the whole world for awhile." He sighed. "Ah shouldn't have let her leave like that."

Rachel touched his arm lightly. "You wouldn't have been able to keep her there, if she didn't want to stay, Sam. I admit, I don't really know her at all, but I can tell that much."

"You've got a point, Ah guess." He looked up at the building again. "Well, there's no use wastin' more time out here, Ah s'pose." 

----

Domino slung her bag over her shoulder as she approached the X-Corp building, and frowned slightly as she found the door slightly ajar. She paused to pull her gun as a precaution, though the door seemed to be too obviously left open for her to believe it wasn't done on purpose. She dropped her bag inside the door and made her way up to the conference room. 

"Don't check your messages, do you?"

"Hello, Sam." She lowered the gun. "Been waiting long?"

"A few hours. Ah called ahead but..." He trailed off, leaning back in his chair.

"I had something I needed to take care of," she replied. "Sorry I didn't clear my schedule with you." She gave him a cool look before sitting down, setting the gun aside.

He leaned forward again, watching her intently. Suspiciously. It was a look she didn't like seeing on Sam. "What _kind_ of somethin'?"

"Personal business," she responded, matching his exaggeratedly civil tone. "And yes, I know Xavier's people didn't see me leave," she continued, flashing him a trace of a satisfied smile. "I didn't _want_ them to. Why are you here, Sam?"

"Ta make sure you weren't dead. Ya promised ta keep in touch."

"Sorry."

He waved a hand. "No, you're not. Don't matter." He studied her for a long moment, before relaxing into his chair again. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"No."

Sam sighed. He hadn't expected her to admit it, of course, and he was sure she knew he didn't believe her. "He took out Blaquesmith's headquarters, so he must have figured out we're tryin' to find him."

"Well, if he was in New York without anyone knowing, I think you have worse problems on your hands than just him knowing what you're up to."

"Ah didn't _say_ it was in New York."

She shook her head. "Educated guess, Sam. Stop trying to catch me--you're no good at it. Besides, I told you, I don't know anything."

"Would you, if you did?"

"Probably not. I don't want anyone touching him." She frowned. "You and Rachel included, Sam. I don't want him controlled, manipulated, or whatever other euphemism Xavier and Blaquesmith have been bandying about. He deserves to do what he wants to do with his life, Sam." 

"He's dangerous as is. You _know_ that."

"He's _always_ been dangerous. This is nothing new. Everyone's uneasy now because they can't write it off anymore. No ends justifying the means, and they don't like that he's not playing for their team anymore. It's _over_ Sam. Let go."

"When we started this, you agreed with me," he countered. "What happened?"

"I remembered how happy we all were once. I remembered how life, this life, destroyed that. I can't do that again. Not willingly." She turned away. "I'm not staying here. Tell Xavier I'm out. I'm too tired for all of this."

"Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Won't."

----

"So she's with him." Rachel leaned back in the seat of the minijet and sighed. They were currently over the Pacific, on their way back to Westchester. Her scans for Nathan had turned up nothing, though she was sure now that he'd been in the area. And probably aware of her presence. The fact that he'd decided _not_ to confront her was inwardly somewhat reassuring--she hadn't been looking forward to a repeat of their telekinetic fistfight in Akkaba.

"Ah think that's a given, yeah."

"But she wouldn't admit to it."

"Would you?"

"I suppose not," Rachel sighed. "Why? I don't understand this. She was _with_ us on this. Why change her mind?"

Sam shook his head. "She probably didn't. But Dom... she was always his fallback. She always came when he needed her... Ah think she _knows_ he needs help, but she has to try it her way."

Rachel pursed her lips. "I hardly think she's in the ...right frame of mind to be trying that."

"Dom's stubborn as all hell. Ah'm sure she realizes she ain't exactly peachy herself, she's not stupid, but that ain't gonna stop her. That's what's got me nervous. But, hell. Maybe we're all wrong. Maybe they just need a little time."

"Optimism is great in theory," Rachel replied dryly. "In practice, it can be a disaster. But he's not ripping the astral plane to pieces anymore, and the only trouble he's caused lately has been typical Nathan, so I guess we can always hope. But I'm not ready to drop my guard yet."

"Neither am Ah. Ah just don't think we need ta go advertisin' the fact that she's with him."

"True." She smiled thinly. "And the conspiracy grows."

----

"There's no need to hover outside the door, Scott. Please, come in."

Holding back a sigh, Scott Summers opened the heavy doors, and tried to steel himself for what was bound to be one of the most difficult conversations of his life. Xavier was sitting, as usual, behind his desk. Scott strode to the center of the room and stood there, hands clasped behind his back. "I want to know how you could do it. I know _why,_ but I want to know how you could _justify_ an action like that. What _reasoning_ did you use that made it okay to use my son--_my son_ as a weapon?"

"Scott..."

"No. Just, tell me." He stepped forward, putting both hands on the large desk. "I've always been loyal to you, Charles. I've believed in everything you stand for whole-heartedly. And while I may have sometimes wished it hadn't cost me so _very_ much, I have never doubted those convictions. Until now. You, Jean, everyone... you thought I was _dead,_ and this is how you were going to honor my memory? By sending Nathan out to fight the battles you found too _distasteful_ for your own people?"

Xavier steepled his fingers, and gave Scott a calm look. "I have always considered you something of a son, Scott. I would never want to cause you any pain. I was simply acting--"

"You _have_ caused me pain. Nathan has been a source of pain for me nearly since his birth. You know that I feel I've let him down more than I've ever been able to help him. And now, again, I feel like there's nothing I can do. But you had a hand in it. You could have left him alone, and you didn't. You *must* have known how wrong his joining the X-Men in my place was, Professor. You, of all people, must have realized how he would feel about my taking his place. It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make for him. I wanted him to have the chance he'd never been given before, and you could have _helped_ him afterwards, but you didn't. You decided he'd be better off serving you than finding his own place in the world. And you tried mighty hard to make sure that no one would realize you'd done it." He lowered his voice. "Jean... told me. About the Sisterhood he was fighting. The things you _said_ to her. How could you have _done_ that?" He was shaking now, a physical tremor that started in his gut and worked its way outward. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut behind the visor. "How _could_ you? We trusted you."

Xavier closed his eyes for a moment and sighed wearily. "I never meant to betray your trust, Scott. I simply felt that with your death, Nathan was on a path for self-destruction. You ask me why I did not try to help your son, but I did. I honestly felt, whether you choose to believe me or not, that this was the best thing I could do for him. He has been so manipulated, so controlled over the course of his life--left on his own, I feared what he would become. He is a violent man, Scott."

"He's also my son."

The Professor favored him with a thin smile. "Believe me, Scott, I know how you are feeling. Conflicted, wishing there were more you could do. I wish I could make things better, but as matters stand now, there is nothing you, I, or anyone else can do, unless Nathan chooses to seek our aid. You have to accept that."

Scott straightened, and backed away from the desk. "Would you do it again?"

"Knowing what I do now? Of course not. Saying that the removal of the virus proved to be an unmitigated disaster is an understatement. But it was also an occurrence I could not have planned for. I do not, however, regret my decision, Scott. It was the right thing to do given the circumstances."

"I'm glad you can believe that," Scott replied tiredly, and walked to the door. "But you'll have to excuse me if I can't."

----

He'd gone to the hangar after leaving the Professor's office, but not even mechanical work had managed to distract him, though he could usually lose himself for hours playing with the fine-tuning on the jet. Now he was staring at the blank square of his bedroom ceiling, wishing he could go to sleep again. The nightmares that had plagued him since he'd been freed of Apocalypse's possession wouldn't allow him to do that, however. He turned his head to the side to watch his sleeping wife. She was frowning a little in her sleep, and he wondered if he'd been projecting his unease over their rapport. He reached out and gently tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, then climbed out of bed and walked over to the bedroom window, drawing the curtains half open.  
He stared out at the moon, half obscured by the snow-frosted roof of the mansion, and sighed. Something in his chest ached, something left behind by the nightmares, he thought. Or maybe just by the conflict that had been stirred up within him. He heard the sound of sheets sliding on the bed, and the soft padding of Jean's feet on the floor a moment later. Her hands were soft and cool as they slid around his torso to hold him from behind, but the rest of her was warm. He could feel her cheek against his shoulder blade.

"Come back to bed," she murmured.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm all right. I just... couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

He didn't reply immediately. Memories flashed across his mind's eye--the sight of desert sand soaked red with blood, his arm, swinging the blade, the feeling of utter elation at the carnage--not his. Nur's. He had to keep reminding himself of that. His stomach clenched and he shivered slightly, pushing the dream away. He felt Jean's concern for him flowing steadily over their rapport. With her, at least, he felt a measure of security, even if he didn't feel comfortable discussing the memories Apocalypse had left behind. They made him feel... tainted. He knew it was not something he could ever truly be free of. 

"Ororo told me once, and I don't remember why now, that she wondered if she'd really come here of her own free will, or whether Charles had _persuaded_ her." He hadn't intended to voice the doubts he'd been harboring since his 'discussion' with the Professor, but it was there, bubbling just under the surface, and his chest felt so tight that he thought it would explode if he didn't let _something_ out. This, at the moment, seemed the least painful. "I didn't really understand it at the time, but I think now that it might have been a sort of warning. Maybe she knew what might happen. Or maybe she was looking for reassurance, so she didn't have to face what we're facing now... this doubt. Now she's left--they don't _trust_ him anymore, Jean. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder if _I_ can."  
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "This isn't really even about Nathan anymore... it _is_, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. Why is it we could never really leave this place? We try, but we never make it. Sense of duty... but is it to the world at large, or is it to him? We've sacrificed _everything._ Our lives, each other..." His voice caught slightly. "Our children. It's a web I can't get _out_ of, and I just don't think I have anything left to _give._"

"Scott..." She tightened her arms around him, all the conflict she'd been sensing in him since his return spilling over the dam he'd built to hold it in check. "We'll find Nathan," she said quietly. "We'll help him. And then we'll go away from here. We won't run, we'll walk away. Because you can't be expected to live like this anymore. It's killing you, and that's killing me."

"I'm afraid," he whispered. "I'm afraid of the man I've become Jean, and I'm afraid of what will happen next. I don't know if any of us can save Nathan, and I feel like a failure for that. I don't know if I can walk away from this, because I owe Charles so much."

"Do you really think the Professor wants you to stay here and be miserable? Do you think so badly of him now that you think he'd exact that sort of a price?"

"I don't know anymore," he murmured.

"Scott, look at me." She turned his chin slightly until he faced away from the window and she could see his face. "You've had a falling out. It's _normal._ No one expects that you're going to see eye to eye on things _all_ the time, especially over something as personal as this. Much as I hate to say this, it's probably been coming for awhile. I know your... experiences while Nur was sharing your body have got you confused," she continued quietly. "Maybe this is just a sign that you need to take some time to work through it? You can't be a good leader when you're feeling this way, and I hate seeing you so conflicted. Please, promise me--once this is over--you'll take some time to deal with this? Even if it means you have to take time away from everyone... myself included?"

He reached out and slid a hand though her hair, cradling her head gently as she rested her cheek against his chest. "All right," he sighed. "It won't come to that, though."

She looked up, and smiled slightly. "Well, I certainly hope not, but if it does, it's all right, Scott. I just want you to be comfortable here, again." 

----

Sunlight was painting the walls of their hotel room when Domino finally cracked an eye open. They'd traveled nearly non-stop, from Hong Kong to the northeastern part of Australia, and then down across the continent. They'd been in Perth the day before. She muttered a little, and paused from burying her head in the pillow long enough to notice Nathan already awake and dressed, sitting in one of the room's two chairs. With a sigh, she pushed herself upright. 

"You don't have to get up."

"No, it's fine," she replied, untangling herself from the bed sheets. She turned away from him and tugged her shirt upward, only to freeze mid-motion, as if realizing too late she'd made a mistake. The unnatural halt in movement drew his attention to her, and the pink splash of scar visible across her back for an instant before she dropped the fabric back in place.

"Dom..."

"It wasn't you."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." She didn't turn towards him, staring at the wall intently instead.

"Domino."

"Leave me alone, Nathan," she replied acidly.

He stood, walking towards her. "I'm _asking_, Dom. Tell me."

"Oh, fuck off," she snarled.

He spun her around, grabbing her arms as she tried to swing at him. Her head hit the wall, hard enough for her vision to dim for a moment, and Nate's hands were iron around her wrists. She jerked a little, a futile movement. "Tell me." A cold sort of determination flickered behind his eyes. It wasn't anger or madness, more akin to desperation than anything else. The space between them crackled with an almost tangible energy.

"There's nothing _to_ tell," she hissed back. "I died, I got better."

'Better' seemed subjective. In body she was certainly years younger, of that Nathan was acutely aware. But the mental static he got from her was primal; anger, fear, confusion. Like she'd been dashed to pieces, and couldn't quite pull it all back together again. She was breathing hard and staring at him with wide eyes, as aware of their proximity as he was. Some part of him twisted, horrified at their mutual behavior, screaming to him that this was wrong. Urging him to pull away. The nearly electric tug was stronger, though, and his lips found hers, the damage done. His weight held her to the wall; hands still locked around her wrists. She returned his kiss with equal violence--parts anger, desperation, and lust. Some facet of her seemed to be begging to be hurt.  
They dissolved into frenzied, brutal caresses, without kindness or compassion, a frenetic joining that left him shaking afterward, heart pounding even as he sprawled on the bed, skin cooling. Dom lay half curled on her side next to him like something that had been hastily discarded, her hair in disarray, the look in her eyes hollow. A wave of self-loathing slammed into him and he reached for her, ignoring the way she flinched. He pulled her to him, gently but firmly until she rested her head on his shoulder and stopped shaking. Telekinetically dragging the blanket from where it had puddled on the floor, he pulled it over them both. The room was silent except for their breathing, and he tried not to react as he felt the first tear hit his skin. He ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it down, feeling like the biggest bastard in the universe for making her cry, because Dom didn't cry, ever.

She pulled away eventually, her tears dried, leaving their tight reminder on his skin. She gathered her clothes with a tired dignity he had to close his eyes to, waiting in silence behind shut lids until he heard the click of the bathroom door. Then he got up, found his clothes, and tried to straighten the savage disarray of the bed.  
There was an ache in him too deep to excise easily. He'd done what he always vowed not to--hadn't asked, just taken--something two decades of familiarity could not excuse. The tide of minds took advantage of his discomfort and surged inward, consuming him. He floundered momentarily, then swam and fought against the current, containing it. He came out of it gasping, clinging physically to the edge of the worn nightstand, seconds passing before he dared move, the voices and the power locked away. Only Domino's mind remained distinct at the other end of the link, its broken edges welded in the heat of their abandon. He felt her touch it, acknowledging and accepting it with the same dull reception with which she took in everything else. After a moment, he withdrew from jumbled static hiss of her thoughts as well. He walked to the window, hands on the sill, gazing passively until he heard her come back into the room.

"I... didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, guilt thickening his voice. 

"Not any more than I did you," she replied, walking over to him. "Just forget it."

He looked at her. "I can't."

"For Christ's sake! What do you want?" She hissed. "For me to make you some sort of bad guy? To make more out of this than there was? If you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly trying to fend you off."

"But--"

"Just--stop it, okay? I'm _telling_ you it's fine, it's fine!"

"It's _not_ fine, Dom!"

She sighed and rested her hand on his arm. "Let's just start over, okay?"

He glanced at her again, uncertainty in his blue-grey eyes. "_How?_"

"We'll just..." She stopped. "Okay, we're just going to forget this. We've both been stressed way the hell out, and it was bound to come out somewhere. Lesson learned. We'll start fresh. I'm not going to blame you for anything, and you're not going to brood to death over it. Okay?"

"I don't know if..."

"Nate, just... try."

He turned, sliding an arm cautiously around her waist. She rested her head on his chest."Okay."

"Mmm. We weren't careful, you know."

Guilt stabbed at him again. "Sorry..."

"--has no meaning," she interrupted, without venom. "And it's not all _your_ fault. We'll live with it." She let out a slow sigh, and freed herself from the circle of his arms. "I suppose we need to get moving, huh?"

He shook his head. "Nothing pressing for today." He smiled slightly at the look she gave him. "Well, we have been traveling almost non-stop, and as isolated as this is, it's still not a bad place to relax for a day. Might be the last civilization you see for awhile, Dom. It's only fair I give you a chance to enjoy it."

----

They'd spent the day mostly doing the requisite tourist crap. There were sights to see, and kitschy souvenir shops to browse through while Dom openly mocked the merchandise. They'd eaten dinner at the hotel restaurant, and things had seemed almost normal, though he'd been painfully aware how trivial their conversations had remained.  
The sun was starting to sink behind the small cluster of buildings that compromised the town center, the ocean beyond the bay turning dark. Domino was walking along the edge of the water, bare feet leaving prints in the wet sand as she stopped here and there, hurling stones and debris far out into the encroaching night, their splashes drowned by the waves. 

"Something's bothering you," he said finally, walking to where she stood, eyes locked on the seemingly endless expanse of waves. As the dark swallowed it up, he could almost believe they were standing at the edge of the world. 

"Leave me alone," she murmured, and another rock plunked into the deep.

"Your anger drags you down, Dom," he replied. "I'm not the person you hate. Let it go."

"I don't know _who_ you are anymore."

"I'm still me, Dom. I'm still someone who cares about you."

"You certainly showed me how much you cared this morning."

"_You_ said we weren't going to dwell on that," he replied without anger.

Her shoulders slumped a little. "Excuse me if I'm having a hard time."

"Apprehensive?"

"Angry," she replied, turning towards him. The breeze blew her hair around her face, and she raised a hand to brush it back. "I can't believe we were that fucking stupid. What are we, teenagers? We know better."

"It was a mistake."

"Story of our lives, Nathan. And you wonder why I won't let go."

"I don't wonder. I know it's because you're afraid that if you do, you'll have nothing left at all." He held her face gently between his hands and sighed. "I miss... being happy."

She turned away slightly, eyes downcast. "We were _ever_ happy?"

He dropped his hands. "It was a long time ago."

With all the lights extinguished around them, and the stars above, they'd finally left the beach for the hotel. With the door closed behind them, Dom stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed naked. Meeting his hesitancy with a murmured comment about wanting to be held, he'd finally joined her. He wasn't about to begrudge her whatever reassurances she asked for, at this point.  
He found it ironic, comforting her from his own mistakes. He remembered that he was not supposed to think of that, or, at least, that he should dwell on it as little as possible. It was hard to forget, knowing there might be consequences. There were already emotional ones. She dozed against him, not quite asleep--he could feel her mind drifting, though, only half-aware of her surroundings as they lay skin on skin. His eyes were drawn to the scars on her back. They were organic looking, as if she'd been scalded, the skin pink and tight and, he thought, probably still painful. So different from the thin surgical scar that was his fault. He wondered, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know, how long ago she'd been injured.  
"Will you tell me how it happened?" A part of him felt that if they could cut away this boundary between then, it would all be all right. The still-rational part of him knew that it would not happen. Still, he asked her.

"It's not the way it looks." It was worse, perhaps; she wasn't sure anymore. After all, she was alive, almost whole. But she couldn't help seeing the blood on a cordoned off section of a busy Paris street, the way she saw it afterward and repeated to herself 'this is where I died,' because she couldn't believe it and had to. She knew he saw it as well, and she continued letting the images play across her mind for him, because she could never find the words for it. 

His arms tightened around her. Much of what he saw was confusion. He could still sense her shock, and the terrible conflict of realizing that she'd wanted to be dead, but, alive again, she couldn't give up on life. "Dom..." He put years worth of regret into her name, and pressed his lips to the black satin of her hair.

"It's no one's fault."

He knew she was right, and thought it must be the worst thing of all.

----

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling long after Dom had pulled away and drifted off, thoughts tumbling through his brain. He didn't feel tired, and didn't completely trust himself after his loss of control. He turned his head, watching Domino sleep until the sounds of morning penetrated the silence of their room, and her eyes blinked slowly open.  
She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning next to him all night long, her nightmares making her restless, often close to consciousness. Even if he had not had evidence, he would have known by her hollow eyes.

"Are you all right?" He touched her hair lightly, as intimate a gesture as he would allow himself.

"Still healing. I'm tired, Nathan, but I'll live."

"I pushed you too hard. I should have--"

"There wasn't time. I know, Nathan. And really, it's been, what," She mentally counted backwards "A month? More than that, since Akkaba. If I hadn't been acting like such a self-destructive bitch, I'd be fine by now." 

He nodded slightly. "One more trip. It's short. Then you can have all the time you need." He sat up. "We need to get some supplies before we head out there."

"And we've dawdled here long enough, I assume," she replied. "Let me catch a quick shower, and I'll be ready to go."

----

It was an uncomfortable feeling, like a prickling on the back of his neck. He did his best to ignore it as he and Dom wandered about the small grocery, picking up the last of the supplies they needed before heading out to the safehouse. But the niggling feeling kept dogging him, and finally hit him full force with the glare of the young cashier at the counter. It wasn't a glare directed at him, but rather at Domino, and the pure disdain in the thoughts that bombarded his shields made his vision go red.

"Nate?" He heard Dom's voice, concerned, as if through layers of cotton. He swallowed, and clenched his hands in fists, trying to fight back the urge to just mindwipe the kid on the spot. The cashier seemed oblivious to his own peril. 

"Nathan!"

The bark of his name from her lips punched through the cotton, punctuated by the pain of her thumbnail in his arm, sharp, drawing blood. He drew back, receding into himself, damping the crackling energy that pushed at his seams. His vision opened wide again from black, and he watched her thumb move to her mouth as she sucked away the red stain.

  


"That was uncalled for Nate," Dom murmured as she grabbed up their bags and led him out of the store.

"He was--" Nathan cast a glance back through the plate glass of the storefront at the cashier. "If you knew the kinds of things he was thinking..."

"About me."

"Yeah."

"You're not the jealous type, Nate."

"It wasn't--they weren't _nice_ things, Dom."

"Oh." She paused. "Well, we are in the middle of nowhere, Nate. Small town. I suppose it figures, given how paranoid the world has gotten. We're leaving soon anyway."

"I know, it's just..."

"Not worth it, Nate. He's not worth it."

----

They packed up the old truck Nathan had acquired the day before--it was rusting, and the suspension had seen better days, but it was more than adequate for their needs--and pulled out of town near noon. It took several hours of driving with nothing but untouched grasslands on either side of them before they finally neared a small structure set well off the already meager road.

"Nice," she commented dryly as they pulled up beside the white cinderblock structure. There was a small weedy clearing around it that melted into the surrounding grassland. Nathan got out of the truck. 

"There's more underground," he replied as he walked over and unlocked the door. She followed him inside.

Light filtered into the room sickly from the high windows, rendered nearly opaque with accumulated dirt. There were only a few bland furnishings in the room--a table, some chairs, a cot against the wall. Nathan crossed to the center of the room and raised the trap door. "It'll be better down here."

There was a short staircase and a sealed door at the bottom, a small burst of stale air hitting them as it swung open. Nate hit several switches near the entrance and the lights came on overhead, the low thrum of the generator reverberating as if from far away. The entrance opened onto a small kitchen and sitting area, with a bathroom and bedroom down a short hall. It seemed pretty typical of one of Nathan's safehouses--efficient, well provisioned, and ready for use. Unglamorous, but it served its purpose.

They used up the rest of the day unpacking and cleaning the building above. Lying in the pitch black next to Nathan that night, Domino felt unfixed from the world. It seemed, at best, a murky reality, and fairly high on the list of worst possible scenarios, though it would be weeks still before they knew just how bad it would end up being. Sensing her unease, no doubt, Nathan reached for her, arms drawing securely around her. He kissed her temple once and murmured something indistinct and comforting.  
She had his love, at least. It was one thing the reforged link had given her, the knowledge that she had not faded from his affections. That proof, however, made their current situation more painful. She was convinced that she could not do anything to save him from this. 

----

Nathan was as good as his word, letting her sleep well into the next day, for which Dom was thankful. Whatever respiratory illness she'd managed to give herself seemed finally to be nearly gone, and the extra sleep had done wonders for getting over the rapid series of time changes they'd made since Nathan had asked her to join him. She wasted a few more hours belowground before finally going topside to look for Nate. She found him finally, sitting on the grass on top of a small rise, a few meters from the building. She sat down next to him wordlessly.

"My mother spent some time out here," he said finally, breaking the silence between them.

"Jean did?"

"Madelyne. I met her, finally, you know. The her Grey brought back. She came to see me."

"What did she want?"

He looked away. "To use me," he replied flatly. "Everyone wants to--use me."

"I don't, Nathan. You know that. I've never wanted you for anything but yourself."

"I know. That's... why I wanted you here. I wanted to bring Sam... that would have been nice. We could have--" He stopped. "I don't know... Oath, it was stupid of me. He'd want to help too much for his own good anyway, and we're not just some flonqing happy..." He laughed brittlely. "I can't just use you as replacement parts. He's not Tyler, you're not--" He cut off abruptly. "I didn't mean it like that." 

She leaned against his shoulder. "I know. So, what were you doing out here?"

"I was... thinking. About endings. That time in Negev, when we thought it was all over?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I was thinking that... maybe it would have been better that way."

"Better?" She asked, glancing at him.

"If it had ended. Everything, I mean. We cause each other all so much pain... sometimes I think living is a mistake." He looked out over the landscape, toward the setting sun. "I could do it, you know," he said quietly.

"Nathan..."

"I'm serious. I could..." He reached out, palm upward. "I could turn off the sun, Dom. I could crush it down, wipe us all out. This would be a very quiet corner of the universe."


	7. Act VII

**Dunsinane  
Act VII**  
by Timesprite

"They're gonna start ta figure out we know more than we're sayin'."

Rachel sat down on the back steps next to Sam, and followed his gaze upwards to the thin sliver of moon. The wind was biting, but he seemed not to notice. Odd, for a southern boy, but then, maybe he just needed to get away. He hadn't been around much, of late, checking on X-Force, and, she thought, trying to ignore the mansion politics. She was still trying to get her bearings. Being back in this time was comforting in its own way, but there was a deep feeling of disquiet that continued to plague her. She wished things could be more like she remembered them. "I'm sure Charles already does," she sighed. "Look, Sam, it doesn't mean that much, in the end. We know Domino's with him, yes, but I tried looking for her, and came up with nothing. He's got to be shielding her the same way he's shielding himself. And even Blaquesmith has admitted that Nathan, most likely, has a few safe houses even *he* doesn't know about. At this point, short of doing an exacting search of the entire *planet,* I don't see how we, or anyone else is going to locate them."

Sam tilted his head towards her. "So you're sayin' we should just give up."

"I'm *saying* we should stop dwelling on it so much, and wait until there's something we can actually do. Shielding like he is has got to be difficult, even for Nathan. He might slip up. Or maybe he'll just... give up? I don't know, Sam. But I do know that giving ourselves ulcers over this isn't going to do anyone any good."

"You're probably right," he replied. "Doesn't make me feel any better 'bout it, though."

"It wasn't really supposed to."

He glanced at her again, smiling wryly. "Well, least *someone's* honest 'round here."

----

It was almost a normal breakfast, if she ignored their stark surroundings and the relative simplicity of the meal. If she ignored the tension between them, and the ever-present anxiety that had seized a portion of her brain. Sure. Perfectly normal.

"So...how long is this little self-imposed exile of yours--ours," she corrected, "going to last?"

"Don't know," Nathan replied with a shrug. "Why?"

"I'm just... I don't know. I miss real food." True, they had dried goods, plus what little they'd brought with them, but it wasn't the same. "Not reconstituted eggs..." She stirred her cereal idly. "And I never got used to powdered milk. Y'know, I want orange juice. Real stuff, not made from orange-flavored syrup."

He set his spoon down. "Well, I may end up sending you back out. Depends."

"On?"

He frowned a little, looking up at her. "Circumstances. You could have all the orange juice you wanted then."

"Yeah." Domino set her spoon in the bowl and pushed it away. "Look, we should probably talk about that. What we're going to do, and all. If I am--"

"Dom..." He reached across the table and took her hand. "Your choice. My mistake, your choice."

She pulled her hand away. "It was *our* mistake, Nate. And I'd like to think we can act like reasonable adults here, instead of stupid kids." She bit her lip, then sighed. "Look, if this were anyone but you, this wouldn't be hard. But damnit, Nate, present circumstances aside, this isn't as big a potential disaster as it would have been two years ago." She muttered something under her breath and rested her head on the table. "This sucks."

"Hey." He got up and walked over to her side of the table. "With any luck, you won't have to *make* a choice."

"With luck," She lifted her head and smiled thinly. "Yeah." 

----

The days had piled together in a horrible wreck, broken pieces piled high. It felt as if there wasn't room to breathe. Time stretched and accelerated at irregular intervals, making Domino feel as if her life there in the safehouse with Nathan was one extended hallucination. Nathan faded in and out of the periphery of her day, sometimes there, seemingly sane as he'd been in the old days, at other times far away, though his body remained. Everything seemed to be falling apart as their lives ground to a halt.  
Dom sighed. She lay on the floor, the cold seeping through the thin cotton of the sundress she'd bought back in town, frigid on her arms and shoulders, the backs of her legs. The industrial lights burned into her eyes like counterfeit suns.

"Dom...?"

She turned her head to the side, enough to see the lower half of Nathan's legs. "Do you remember what dying feels like?"

He kneeled down next to her, and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face. "Not really. I suppose I haven't ever--not like you mean it."

She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and giving him a haunted look. "The woman Sam met in Skopje said you died."

Nathan frowned a little. "I don't really remember that. I don't think that's what really happened. But you did."

"Mm." She nodded slightly. "It was only a few hours, admittedly, but I was dead." She hunched her shoulders. "I wish I could forget it, Nathan, but I can't. And it seems such a stupid thing to be stuck on, really. But I keep--I don't know. I feel like the inside of my head has been scrambled sometimes, like I can't *think* anymore."

"You could have said something."

"What? Was I supposed to say 'Sorry, Nate, but I had this alien hitching a ride for awhile, and sure, it brought me back from the dead but no one--myself included--is quite sure if I'm all there anymore'? You needed me."

"Something. You needed someone, too."

"It doesn't matter, Nathan."

"It does."

She shook her head. "What difference does it make? We both have things that can make us scream in our sleep. Why does it matter *what* they are?"

"Because I can't fix them if I don't know."

"You can't *fix* it at all, Nathan. What we had is dead and gone. There's only this, now, and we have to live with that." She wrapped her arms around herself. "It would have been better if you'd died."

"Probably," he admitted. "I don't know how this will end."

"Badly."

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and hooked his chin over her shoulder. "You never gave up on me, Dom. Don't do it now."

She dropped her head to her chest, and stared at the floor. "I don't want to, Nathan. Especially now--I want everything to work out. I just don't think it *can.*"

"It will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because we're free, now, Dom."

"We're hiding, Nate. That's not free."

"We will be, eventually." He smiled slightly, and pulled her closer. "What are you going to do with the rest of your life, Dom?"

"I don't know. It's... I could start over. That's the one thing that damned space lizard gave me. I could start over and try 'normal' for a change. Except I know I couldn't do it, and that's the worst thing of all. The universe decided to stop fucking me over, but I'm too messed up to take advantage of it. I suppose you had something in mind?"

"Only if you want me around."

----

The dark of their bedroom was absolute. There was not even the glow of a clock to pierce the heavy black blanket that enfolded them. Had he wanted to, he could have seen every last detail in the room, he knew. The blank walls and ceiling, Domino curled up against him like something impossibly fragile. He preferred the dark, however. There was something comforting in the void. It was nearly as silent as it was dark, with only the constant hum of the generator and the soft sound of their twinned breathing. If he listened hard enough, he thought, he might have been able to hear Dom's heartbeat. In the silent moments like this, he could almost forget that they were hiding here. It still seemed so natural after so long--to be with her, to hold her.   
He marveled at how completely they'd become entangled over the years, to the point where separation, no matter how hard they tried, seemed to be a temporary thing. They always came together again like planets in orbit. They had no sun to revolve around so they orbited each other, eclipsing, moving apart, nearing again, inching closer it seemed, to inevitable collision. Strange to think that after so many years, so many struggles against insane odds, that in the end they just might end up annihilating each other.

She murmured disquietly in her sleep, and he reached out, rubbing a hand gently along her back while he tried to quiet the dreams--nightmares that pricked and cut at him with their violence, tried to drown him with their malevolence. It hurt at some primal level that he hadn't really felt how deep the damage done to her ran, and that she hadn't asked for his help. She'd never be able to fight it forever on her own. 

He spent the rest of the night guarding her sleep as best he could, trying to gain her a measure of rest he saw now had been lacking for so long. He held on to her until long after his internal clock told him the sun had risen above them and she finally moved away, nestling into her pillow with a murmured sigh.

----

The bedroom was empty when Domino awoke, as it had been most mornings since they'd come to the safehouse. She stretched, and padded off to the bathroom for a shower before heading out to the small kitchen area. Nathan wasn't there either, which meant that he'd gone topside already. She fixed herself a small breakfast, and loitered over a cup of coffee before finally heading up the stairs that lead to the building above.  
Nathan was sitting cross-legged on the ground, his back to the door. She leaned back against the cinderblock and lit one of the cigarettes she'd liberated from her luggage before coming up. The white smoke spiraled up into the washed out sky. Nathan stood and brushed his hands on his jeans, turning to face her.

"I wish you wouldn't."

She snorted. "Come off it. Out here, I'm not hurting anyone but myself."

"Are you?"

She arched an eyebrow. "You know something I don't?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Fine." She tossed the cigarette down in annoyance and scrubbed it out in the dirt. "Christ. You're a real pain in the ass, you know that, Nate?"

"It's a bad habit, anyway."

She sighed. "What were you doing?"

"Listening."

"To what?"

"Everything." He leaned next to her. "It's like an orchestral piece. There are... layers to it. Depth. If I ignore the individual voices, concentrate on hearing the whole thing, not just parts..."

"Is that such a good idea?"

"It is if I can master it. Listen to *all* of it, reduce it down to a hum in the back of my head. It's just like the link, Dom. The way you're always there, but I only listen in when I want to. The scale is larger, but it's the same thing. My shields..." He paused, looking her in the eye. "They're failing. But I don't *need* them. I can tune it out. We've been doing it wrong all along. The way I was trained. I see things I couldn't before, Dom. I understand things..."

"You're crazy," she said flatly.

"Maybe a little." He reached out, turning her towards him. "Dom..." Her eyes were brittle, and it hurt him. He wanted to kiss her but didn't think she'd allow it. He ran his palm along her cheek instead, tangling his fingers into the thick waves of her hair. "What did they do to you?"

"Me? Nothing, Nathan. I'm nothing special, never have been. Spend more time worrying about what was done to you. That's more important."

"No, it was the way things had to be. That I understand, at least."

"But--"

"I haven't forgiven them for what they're trying to do now, no." He ran a hand along her back. "It hurts, doesn't it? What they did to your head. Aentaros, and the other one." She didn't make a sound, but her acknowledgment was implicit in the way her body went slack, all tension gone in an instant. "I can make them quieter," he murmured. "The memories. I won't try to erase them--I don't want to hurt you--but I can make them quieter." The drop of her defenses on the other end of the psilink was the only consent he needed. He sunk himself gently into her thoughts, the touch more intimate than they'd shared in ages, far more so than the hasty joining back at the hotel.   
Distantly, he felt her body tense against his, then relax, though the feeling was muted and disjointed. He smoothed over the ugly rends caused by the Undying and the other one she thought of as 'Junior.' Morbid, that she should have named the thing. He brushed lightly over the faint trace of suggestion he recognized as Xavier's, unsurprised by it, then stumbled, catching another--more recent and tantalizingly familiar. It made him itch with elusive recognition, until he stopped, and remembered where she'd been. 

"Rachel..."

"Hmm?" Dom moved against him slightly, almost drowsily. "Nathan?"

"She--"

"I know," she murmured. "She was only trying to... help, I'm sure."

"But she *didn't* help," he replied. "She could have, and--"

"Not me, Nathan," she sighed. "She was trying to help you."

"I don't *need* her help. She wouldn't agree with what I'm doing, with what *I* want, Dom. We're better off now."

She took a breath, and held it for a long moment. She wanted to believe him so badly. He'd admitted, after all, that things weren't working the way he'd hoped. But beneath his calm surety, she sensed real fear in him, hidden in a place too deep for him to acknowledge.   
She knew how he felt. She knew what losing your mind could feel like. She'd lived for months on end with that terror as she'd tried to flee Marcus Tsung's relentless pursuit, and before--in the dark when the bloody memories of the creature that called itself Undying oozed through her dreams.

She reached for his hand. "Let's go back downstairs. I'm going to bake out here."

----

Domino was sleeping soundly, for the first time in a long time, he was fairly certain. He wanted to stay there beside her, but he could feel the weakness clawing at him from the inside, and knew he needed to act if he wanted any chance at saving himself. He had to--he was too afraid of what would happen if he gave in to the madness that wanted to swallow him up with every breath he took. He would never let Dom know just how close to that edge he stood, though he knew that at some level, she sensed it. His state of mind was not helping hers, and he would have ripped the link in two again for her sake, if he thought it would help. It wouldn't. He needed to pull himself together.   
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared down at the floor for a long moment before finally standing to pull on his jeans, and make his way silently out of the room. He climbed the stairs and exited the building above, wandering across the clearing and out into the untouched land beyond. The air was cooling now, and he walked for what seemed like miles--far enough that Domino would not follow, though he gently shut his end of the link just to be certain. He needed the solitude, more than anything now. Finally, he picked a spot, and sat down in the long grass.

He could feel himself receding. He released a held breath, and felt himself flowing outward into the abyss that wanted to swallow him up. Insidious, how it could come so silently, yet pull with such hunger. Easy to see now why so many went mad. In the vast wash of consciousness, there were pinpricks of light, familiar to him in the darkness. He ached to reach out and touch them, to scream how lonely this void was.   
He was surrounded on all sides by minds: bitter, hostile, sad, or just indifferent. Happiness seemed to drift as a calm undercurrent he could not quite reach. He wanted to come back again, ground himself in the world, but he thought that if he did, he might never cure this weakness in himself, and lose his mind. He was peripherally aware he might have already. He knew now why Rachel had been afraid. There was no room in the world for a madman with the power to knock planets from their orbits and step through time. He had become his own enemy, a nightmare to the waking world, silent and still coalescing. He doubted he could shut himself down if he wanted to. His powers had refused to let him die on the garish carpet of a Macedonian hotel, he doubted they would allow a mental suicide. He didn't want to, anyway. There was still a violet light tethered to him, like a planet on as crazed an orbit as his own, though still holding the promise of better things. Of peace after and ever changing, never-ending war. Between the space of heartbeats, a thousand thoughts pulsed and crowded. He could not shut them out anymore, and he could not shove them away--that silence would come at a horrifying price. He drew another breath, and let himself go. 

The world rocked shut around him, and he fell backward with the long grass surrounding him and the stars above. Stars nearly the same as the skies he saw in his time-lost past. The voices were the angry buzzing of bees now, reduced from the roar of oceans, someday to be merely a low hum, if he could last that long. The world turned beneath him, and fate stalked the heavy shadows.

----

Darkness engulfed her dreams, images flashing out of the abyss, sharp and unexpected as the shards of a mirror, reflecting memories as they cut; hers, and the oily conjurings of the demons who'd swallowed her life. Suddenly, silently, that remembered flash of pain consumed her whole and plunged her into nothingness. She awoke violently in the pitch-black room, its stark walls and ceiling a tomb encasing her, tangled sheets a shroud. 

There wasn't a trace of Nathan. Not around the safe house, and not in her mind. 

She sat above ground during the day, sheltered in the rough shell of a building, and at night, dreams haunted her sleep in the crypt-like bedroom below. After three days he walked out of the wilderness, shirtless, like a sunburnt god. The sun had glinted brightly off the few remaining patches of T-O even before she could see him clearly on the horizon.  
As he approached, she was struck by the sheer power evident in him, though she'd realized long before that he had been restored as she had, and that the death of the virus had given him a physical well-being he hadn't had in years.

"Where did you go?"

He stood in the doorway, blocking out the sun. A smile crossed his face. "Everywhere."

He was gone. The look on his face screamed it louder than a thousand other actions ever could have. He was in control but some part that made him *Nathan* had vanished. Cable--soldier, outdated martyr--was watching her now, but Nathan Dayspring had died somewhere in the Australian wilderness. In the end, there was a kind of symmetry there. She hadn't been herself in years.

She slinked upright, graceful, assured, and walked to him, taking his hand. "I've been waiting for you."

----

"Dom..."

"Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips. "It's okay." In the faint light from the half open door, her eyes were bright. "I just--need this." She removed her finger and leaned in to kiss him. He could feel the sorrow in it, and realized how much she'd been suffering here. How much she feared the end for them was approaching. His arms slid around her, cradling her gently as he kissed her lips and face, drawing her down with him until she lay beneath him, dark hair pooled around her on the pillow. There was an ache in his chest that felt as if it might just kill him. "Dom..." He murmured again, past the paralyzing sense of helplessness that filled him. He reached down and caressed the side of her face lightly, and she turned her head, pressing her cheek against his palm. 

She smiled sadly. "Nothing matters. Just... be with me."

----

He slept beside her afterward, the sleep of the dead. Her fingers traced along his shoulder lightly, leaving ephemeral trails on his skin. The burn would cool to bronze by morning, she knew. His hair was shockingly white against his forehead.  
She closed the door and lay back down in the dark, Nathan's mind a deep throb across the link, almost a color to her closed eyes. The weight of inevitability seemed to press her into the mattress. A part of her was trying to bargain with a god she'd never believed in, except when she needed someone to hate.

It was too soon. They needed more time, *she* needed more time before he was gone, truly gone. He couldn't leave her alone here. She rolled, and lay against his side, the heat of his skin something concrete. She couldn't tell if she was losing her mind here, or finding it, but she could feel time sweeping like floodwaters around them, and rising. There wasn't much time left.

----

He was pulled awake suddenly, a moment of alarm passing quickly as he realized it was Dom, sitting upright in the bed next to him, breathing hard. He reached out and laid a hand on her arm, which was trembling slightly. She pulled herself away and got up, walking in a controlled but careful way out of the bedroom.

His stomach twisted in a knot.

Over the sounds of Dom--sick in the bathroom--he sent the whisper off into the dark. _'Here I am.'_

Things had come undone.

"It was just a nightmare," she said when she returned, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank wall.

He nodded.

"It was." She was cold all over.

"I know," he replied, and pulled her against his shoulder.

"It's too soon for--"

"I believe you," he murmured, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

----

There was sunlight pouring over the estate in Salem Center, giving the day a certain amount of cheer despite the cold. Water was dripping steadily from the boathouse eves as Jean stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes left over from lunch. She dried a plate with care, eyes half on the sun-drenched winter scenery. As she turned to set the plate on the counter, a familiar voice rippled out to her from the astral plane. She froze, and the plate shattered, all but forgotten, at her feet. 

"Jean?" Scott's concerned face appeared in the doorway, and he strode quickly to his wife's side as he saw the stricken look on her face. "Jean? What's wrong?"

"Scott--I... I know where he is."

"Wh--Nathan? You found him?"

"He found me," she replied quietly. "Scott, I know where he is. He *wants* us to--"

_#Jean?#_ Rachel's concerned mental voice interrupted her, and she realized she hadn't been the only one to receive the summons.

_#I know, Rachel. I heard him.#_

"What's going--"

"He found Rachel as well. Scott, we need to go *now.* I don't know how long he's going to wait for us. I don't know how long we have, before..."

"Something's happened?"

She shook her head. "I just have a very bad feeling about this, Scott. And that frightens me."

----

Blanket wrapped around her, Dom sat against the cinderblock wall, the Australian sky stretched high and vast above her, stars winking like a thousand scattered diamonds. It was early morning, the sun only the barest whisper of light on the horizon, and she felt sick—a feeling of dread coiled tightly in the pit of her stomach. She sat that way for an hour, head tipped back to watch the skies as the land woke around her before Nathan emerged, sitting beside her wordlessly, arms draped over his knees. 

"They're coming, aren't they?"

He nodded slightly.

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I have to."

That was the feeling that wouldn't leave her—a sense of the inevitable, of being cornered with nowhere to go. The realization that there was one future before them now, and not even she could do anything to alter the outcome. She got up, and walked inside, descending below ground and retrieving her gun. Tucking it securely into her waistband, she went back outside, took her place beside Nathan again, and settled in to wait. "How did they find us?"

"I let them."

"*What?*"

"You were right, Dom. We couldn't hide from them forever. At least this way, it's on *our* terms." The smile he gave her was frightening.

----

They watched the Blackbird circle twice in the brightening sky, the roar of the engines growing louder as it landed several meters off from the small building. Nathan was on his feet, watching as it settled in the grass with an expression that was frighteningly blank. The feeling that had lain like a stone in her stomach all morning burst wide, and spread throughout her, making her limbs sluggish and slow to respond. She touched the grip of her gun for reassurance, and followed him, hanging a few feet behind.

Slowly, four figures emerged from the plane. Jean, Scott, Rachel, and Sam. She was unsurprised. Nathan, after all, had called them here. He wouldn't have called anyone else.

"Nathan..." Cyclops took several steps forward, approaching cautiously, trying to gauge the situation. Domino watched it all like a slow-motion horror film. She could feel it coming-- "We want to--"

Malice bloomed behind her eyes, cold and alien--his. The world seemed to stop then, not slow, but freeze dead in its tracks, impending disaster something she could taste. Nathan's anger bubbled darkly through her brain, they were caught, feedback looping to infinity. She watched the scene before her as through water, playing out with sluggish inevitability. Things stuttered, started, and she regained a sense of self, fighting against gravity itself to move.

One, two, from the gun she only knew she held as the recoil shuddered up her arms. The shots slammed into his unguarded left side from behind, tearing muscle, breaking bone. The world tilted dangerously around her then, the ground suddenly beneath her bare knees as she watched detachedly Jean kneeling at Nathan's side--an almost biblical snapshot--the gun's last report reverberating up to the china-blue sky.

-Fin-


End file.
